


Once I Was

by rideswraptors



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Al & Scorpius bromance, Al Potter x Delilah Finnigan, Domi is Bi, F/M, Fred is Gay, Gen, James x Allie Longbottom, Like, Lily x Lysander, Louis is Pan, Multi, Not really though, Scororse, Slytherin!Al, Slytherin!Lily, Slytherin!Scorpius, minor character death at first, nice major character deaths eventually, sort of a song fic, their love is epic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 84,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7215181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius Malfoy's life through "7 Years" by Lukas Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing another Scorose fic when I heard "7 Years" for the first time. I thought I'd write this cute little vignette, try out a song fic, just to take my mind off things. 100K words later and it's not finished. I have a lot of feelings about Scorpius Malfoy, okay?

_Once I was seven years old, my mama told me,_

_Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely._

Until the age of seven, Scorpius Malfoy spent most of his time with his family’s house elves and adults, limited primarily to his parents and tutors. As a child, he never thought anything odd about this arrangement, as there really wasn’t anyone to tell him otherwise. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately if you want to look at it that way, not long after his seventh birthday his mother declared that her son was becoming a shut-in and she wouldn’t have it. Her plan, she informed Scorpius’ father over dinner one evening, was to take him to the local park where he could meet other children his age. His father, whose good opinion Scorpius wanted very much, was vehemently against it. Not because he didn’t want Scorpius to make friends, but because there would be _muggles_ there, and Scorpius had already demonstrated his first magic. It wasn’t safe.

“We can take him to meet children from other wizarding families,” his father said reasonably, thinking the matter closed. But then Scorpius’ mum made that face, the one that usually meant Scorpius was about to get shouted at, so Scorpius stared straight down at his food, feeling rather sorry for his father.

“ _Which_ families, Draco?”

Scorpius didn’t know what that meant, really, but it did mean that his mum got her way. The next day he was dressed in casual clothes he could get dirty and given specific instructions about not discussing magic or the house elves with any of the children. He was instructed to say that his father was in business and his mother worked in research and that they had _servants_ , not elves. Scorpius only sort of paid attention to all of this. He didn’t want to get into trouble, but he didn’t see that it was such a big deal. He was more interested in the muggles, a lot more interested than they would probably be in him.

So a couple hours after breakfast, he and his mum _walked_ to the park. Scorpius had never walked to a place. They always used the floo, sometimes a portkey, but father didn’t like those very much. But Scorpius decided very quickly that he enjoyed walking. He got to see things, like the different houses and trees and even a few cars (which had scared the pants off of him the first time he saw one). And the park was brilliant. It had tall slides and a hundred kinds of swings, there were bars to cross and ropes to climb, places to hide in and jump from. Stuff that went in circles really fast and others that went up and down. It was the most wonderful thing Scorpius had ever seen. But as they got closer, he realized there were children _everywhere_. It was mid-summer so school wasn’t in session, and all of the local children had trudged to the park to meet their friends and avoid doing chores. There were a dozen or so adults lingering on the edges, sitting on benches, but he hardly paid them any notice for the screeching and shouting happening.

“Mum,” Scorpius said, pulling at her skirt, “I don’t wanna play, let’s go home.”

“Not until you’ve run around a bit, darling.”

“No, _mum_ , I really don’t want to.” He watched wide eyes as some older boys with big fat fists and mean faces crowded around a smaller boy, poking and laughing at him. The smaller boy seemed scared, but no one did anything to help him; the other children just eyed the situation warily, from a distance. That could happen to _him_. He didn’t have time to explain this to his mother, however, because she had dropped to a crouch and turned him bodily to face her. Other adults said that Scorpius looked just like his father, and apparently this was supposed to be a really good thing. Even his mum smiled about it. But Scorpius thought his mum had the best face in the whole world and he wished he had big brown eyes like hers. She cupped his face in her hands, wiping at some imaginary smudge and forced him to look directly at her.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, you are my only son and I love you, but sometimes you are too much like your father for your own good. I’m not telling you to change who you are, I’m telling you that people put effort into you when you put effort into them. You don’t want to spend your whole life alone because you were too scared or too stubborn to try anything new. Now.” She stood up straight and pointed toward the playground. “Go make friends.” With that he bit his lip and sent her one last pleading look before he turned and walked onto the playground.

Scorpius wasn’t sure how to go about this “making friends” business. The house elves were his friends, and they talked to him because a lot of times they had to. Scorpius never held this against them, they were only elves, and Wizzy and Sellie and Diggle were really very nice and very funny. Sellie and Diggle would always get into arguments about nonsense and Wizzy would just scowl at them. Scorpius thought it very entertaining. But it wasn’t as if Scorpius could walk up to a stranger, ask them for cake and for them to tell him stories about their day. That didn’t seem on. Instead, as he trudged across the surprisingly bouncy playground surface, he looked for places where he could sit and watch for a while. Or maybe he just wanted to hide. He didn’t really know. Stopping near the slide to narrowly avoid being run over by a herd of giggling girls, Scorpius turned in a circle searching for a place. His eyes landed on a wooden ledge, where that small boy who’d been tormented by the bigger ones sat kicking his heels against it. Without pausing to think, Scorpius quickly made his way over and sat a wide distance from the boy. He had brown hair cropped so close to his head that he was almost bald, so it made his yellow-ish eyes look big like an owl’s. His clothes were pretty dirty and Scorpius could see from up close that there were a few rips and worn places. None of this information was helpful because he didn’t really know what to say.

“Are we allowed to sit here?” he asked finally. It was a cause for some concern. Scorpius hadn’t ever been to a park, so he didn’t know what the rules were. It was all made worse by the fact that there were a lot of things Scorpius wasn’t allowed to talk about. So the silly question just popped out of his mouth. The boy turned and looked at him oddly, like he was the dumbest thing alive.

“Course yer allowed. It’s a park, you sit wherever you want.”

“Oh.”

They went back to sullen silence, though Scorpius didn’t miss the “weirdo” the boy muttered under his breath. All Scorpius wanted to do was go home and talk to people that liked him.

“I’ve never been to a park before,” he tried again. His companion’s expression was more incredulous than the time before.

“Whatchu mean you ain’t ever been? Are you a herbet or summat?”

“Uhh...No? I don’t think so. I’m a Malfoy.”

“Oh,” the boy said airily, his body rocking as he spoke, “What’s that?”

“That’s my last name.”

The boy grinned, jumped down from his spot, and shuffled over, “Right then. I’m Jacob Watson.” The boy thrust out his hand to Scorpius, obviously expecting him to shake it. With no small amount of surprise, Scorpius did.

“I’m Scorpius Malfoy.”

“ _Scorpius_?” Jacob laughed in disbelief. “Mate, you really are _weird_.”

“Am I?” he asked rhetorically. Scorpius didn’t know if he really liked being called weird so much.

“Yep!” Jacob chirped. “But that’s okay. The other boys think I’m weird too.” Scorpius’ gaze drifted over to where the bigger boys were standing, laughing and shoving each other. He frowned.

“They don’t seem very nice, though.” He couldn’t really trust the opinions of people he didn’t think were nice. Maybe Jacob wasn’t weird at all. Maybe _they_ were weird.

“My da says I’ve got to learn to stand up for myself,” Jacob informed him kicking at the wood ledge next to Scorpius’ dangling feet. “But I don’t see how cause they’re so big and there’s more’en ‘em than me.” Scorpius nodded gravely. That did seem to be the case. But one of his tutors told him a story about a really great wizard who’d taken on this much more powerful wizard and that bloke had a ton of followers who hated the first wizard. The really great wizard still won though, and his tutor told him it was because he was fighting for his friends. Scorpius always thought it would be really cool to have a friend like that, someone who would fight bad guys for you. With a firm nod, Scorpius jumped from the ledge and looked back at Jacob.

“Well maybe having a friend would help.”

Jacob frowned, “You want to be my friend?” Scorpius shrugged, not understanding what the problem was. “It’s just I’m not…people don’t like me.”

“I like you just fine,” Scorpius countered. “Besides, my mum says I have to make friends, and I’d much rather be friends with _you_ than _them_.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the bigger boys who were annoying a girl now. “They seem like a bad sort.”

“They are,” Jacob confirmed miserably. “They’re always taking my stuff and telling me to sit far away from them so they don’t _catch my poverty_.” He rolled his eyes. “They always tell me I’m poor.”

“Like you don’t have stuff?”

“Yeah. My da’s a plumber and my mom works at a chip shop. We don’t got much money.”

“That’s a stupid reason not to like somebody. I’ve got _loads_ of stuff. You can have whatever you want.”

Jacob didn’t accept, but he didn’t say no either. He just smiled at Scorpius. They decided that Scorpius needed to learn where everything was, so Jacob dragged him all over the place. He saw where the best lookouts spots were, the best places to hide, the best places to jump from. He met a few of Jacob’s school mates and neighbors, who were all very friendly. He pointed out the adults that would tattle on him, the ones who didn’t pay attention, and the ones who were really bossy. He told Scorpius about the Ice Cream Man and the firework shows they did over the summer. Through all of this, Jacob really only had one question for him.

“Scorpius, why is your hair all shiny and back like that?”

Scorpius sighed heavily, kicking at a pole, “I don’t know,” he grumbled, “My father makes me do it.”

*

From then on Jacob and Scorpius were nigh inseparable. Scorpius insisted that he go to the park every day because Jacob’s grandmother always kicked him out of the house so she could clean. When Scorpius’ mother and father couldn’t take him, or when he ended up staying out all day, one of the elves was sent to keep an eye on the pair of them. Invisibly, of course, and Scorpius never paid them any mind. Jacob taught Scorpius everything he knew about everything, bugs, trees, rocks, and girls. They talked a lot about how to avoid the bigger boys, but eventually the other children started leaving them alone for the most part. One boy loudly told his mother that kids had “accidents” whenever they were mean to Jacob and Scorpius; they would trip, clothes would rip, their shoelaces would tie together. There was one particularly disastrous event when the leader of the bigger boys, Geoff, got plowed over by a girl on a swing. He got knocked unconscious for a whole minute. Geoff, when he woke, insisted that he’d been pushed, but everybody saw what happened plain as day: he walked right in front of her. If Jacob thought any of this was strange, he didn’t mention it to Scorpius. He was probably just grateful not to be tormented anymore.

As is always the case, summer passed far too quickly. Jacob had to start back at primary and Scorpius’ tutors would be coming around regularly again. This didn’t deter them however. Scorpius’ mum told him that he couldn’t owl Jacob, which wouldn’t have worked very well anyway because Jacob couldn’t write very much. Instead, they just met up at the park every afternoon when Jacob was released from school. It was crowded, more so than the summers because kids couldn’t come whenever they wanted, but eventually they took to wandering into town and the nearby woods. Scorpius’ parents didn’t mind so long as Wizzy or one of the others went with, and Jacob’s parents were usually too busy working to know what he got up to. When it rained, they sat under this really big oak tree that they liked to climb. Scorpius didn’t tell Jacob, but Wizzy charmed it so that the rain didn’t fall through the branches. When it was cold, Scorpius always brought Jacob an extra coat because his was too thin and all of Scorpius’ things were charmed to keep your body at the perfect temperature no matter what the weather. Jacob’s eyes got so big the first time Scorpius told him to keep his brand new coat, and when his mum asked where the coat had gone, he said the bigger boys had stolen it.

Their lives fell into comfortable pattern. School, complaining about school, and exploring. Jacob had a manic amount of energy and hated sitting still or staying too quiet for too long. This suited Scorpius just fine because he never got to see _anything_ because his parents were so strict and he couldn’t really tell Jacob much about his home life or family. It became a really fun game for him, making up excuses about the gaps in his knowledge or trying to explain away something odd he’d said. He told his tutor that being friends with a muggle who didn’t know about magic was like thinking up a whole new version of yourself. His tutor, Ms. Delacour, a nice French lady his dad had known during school, asked him what he thought about having to lie. But Scorpius had never really thought about it as _lying_ , and that made him really uncomfortable. He’d always thought it was just _The Rules_ , and it couldn’t be helped. He got a little depressed after that, and really wished he could show Jacob magic even if Jacob never got any of his own. Jacob, he knew, would definitely think it was cool and maybe be a little jealous, but if Scorpius did neat stuff for him then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It was much harder to tell stories after that.

A couple years passed before either boy invited the other over to his house. Jacob said his school friends always teased him about how small his house was, how crowded, so it was embarrassing. Scorpius knew that his parents would be hesitant to invite a muggle boy over without advanced warning. Scorpius also didn’t want his friend to feel bad because his family had such a big house. Not as big as his cousin Brutus’ house, but it was much bigger than the Watson’s. But Scorpius thought their house was brilliant. It was small and a little chaotic, but it was cozy and always smelled like biscuits. Mrs. Watson was really nice and always hugged Scorpius when he came over, and let them watched as much telly as they wanted (the telly was a mind-blowing concept for Scorpius, and he’d told a whopper of a lie to Jacob about why he didn’t know a thing about it). Scorpius spent nights over on the weekends when Jacob didn’t have to get up for school. He even had his own toothbrush there.

Having Jacob over to Malfoy Place was a little more complicated. For one, it wasn’t like Jacob could just show up at his house like Scorpius showed up at the Watson’s. Explaining this to Jacob took some doing. Scorpius said it was because his mum wanted to be there to supervise because she had some really old stuff in the house that didn’t belong to her and because his father usually had other business people over and they couldn’t be interrupted. This was enough to satisfy Jacob for a while until he asked about how he could ask to come over. He wanted the Malfoy’s telephone number. _That_ took some doing, but eventually he convinced his father that a muggle phone line just for Jacob was a really good idea because if Jacob called from his house, it would take him ten minutes to get to the Malfoy’s and they could hide up all the magic stuff and tell the elves to stay in their hall. His father was not impressed with this idea, but one look from his mum and it was agreed upon. So, sometimes Jacob came over, and Scorpius showed him all the cool places in his house. There were rooms they weren’t allowed to go in, but the elves charmed them to vanish whenever a muggle entered the house. They also had to fix up Scorpius’ bedroom a little because there were protective charms in place, not to mention the windows charmed to peer into the bottom of the nearby lake (which Scorpius loved). They worked up some tricky magic where it froze like a muggle painting whenever a muggle looked at it. Elves were dead useful, Scorpius thought. But Malfoy place was really intimidating for Jacob. He said it gave him the jeebies (which Scorpius’ mum explained as him sensing magic but not knowing what it was). So they spent most of their time in Scorpius’ room, his study room, or outdoors in the garden. Sellie and Diggle sometimes played tricks on them, but Jacob was so used to strange things happening when he was with Scorpius that he didn’t even question it.

*

It was late May, a few weeks before school let out with Scorpius’ tenth birthday on the horizon, when Scorpius’ father informed him that the family would be spending the summer in Belgium because he had business there. This did not go over well. He and Jacob had _plans_ for that summer. And if Scorpius was gone the whole time, who would look after Jacob? He was always losing things and hurting himself because he was too eager and too clumsy. The other boys would pick on him. And Scorpius didn’t want to spend a whole summer in stupid Belgium anyway! Who would he play with? Couldn’t he stay home with one of the elves? Couldn’t he spend the summer with the Watsons? Unfortunately, not even his mum was on his side. He whined so much that his father grounded him for the week and he was sent to his room for the rest of the day.

This did not sit well with Scorpius. His room was on the basement floor where all the other bedrooms were, but the elves had a staircase to the garden in their hall that he used all of the time. He waited twenty minutes before he snuck out. When he left it had started to rain, but it was only a five minute walk to the park and Jacob’s school would let out soon. Besides he _had_ to tell Jacob about Belgium, and there was no way he could call him without his parents knowing. He felt a little guilty that they didn’t know where he was, but he figured it was their fault for grounding him in the first place. Scorpius pulled his hood up and shoved his hands in his magic-warm pockets. Maybe his parents would let Jacob come with them, though he didn’t know what Mrs. Watson would think about. Maybe they would agree to a visit or two, Scorpius’ parents wouldn’t mind paying for a muggle plane ticket or two, surely. He got to the big oak tree where they met every day and threw himself down against the trunk to sulk. There was absolutely _no way_ he was spending the whole summer in some other stupid country. What was in _Belgium_ anyway? Did they even speak English? His mum might have said something about practicing his French, but he’d been too angry to listen to her properly. Jacob showed up a quarter of an hour later, smiling cheerfully in spite of the dreary weather.

“Hiya, Scorp!” he chirped, tossing his school bag against the tree trunk. He plopped down on the grass and tilted to the side like an owl while he examined Scorpius’ pout. “Whatsa matter?” With a sigh, Scorpius peevishly informed him of his parents’ decision about their summer. The longer Scorpius talked, the deeper Jacob frowned. It wasn’t an expression Scorpius liked all that much. He’d always thought Jacob looked like a kicked puppy when he was upset with his big eyes and the corners of his mouth turned down.

“It’s so stupid!” Scorpius snarled, kicking at the grass petulantly. “I don’t even wanna go! It’s gonna be stupid and boring and I _hate_ Belgium!” It really didn’t matter that he’d never been there before. He hated the whole stupid country on principle. Jacob, very still, seemed to understand the implications of what his friend was telling him. But what Jacob knew and Scorpius didn’t was that the Watsons definitely couldn’t afford a plane ticket and they would never, ever allow the Malfoys to pay for it. Mr. Watson didn’t even like that his son spent time with Scorpius; said he was getting mad ideas and acting like a charity case. Jacob didn’t know what that meant, and the Malfoys were nothing but nice to him, even Mr. Malfoy who was a little scary sometimes. And Scorpius was his _best friend_ , so it seemed a little thick to not spend time with him just because one family had a lot of money and the other didn’t. Scorpius was right, everything _was_ stupid. Suddenly, he couldn’t sit still anymore.

“Let’s climb,” Jacob interjected suddenly, stopping Scorpius’ rant about how bored he was going to be.

“No, Jake, come on. It’s cold and wet. I don’t want to climb!” But Jacob didn’t listen. Scorpius scowled as the smaller boy scrambled up the trunk, using familiar hand-holds to get to the thicker branches. It was only a moment or two before Jacob had disappeared entirely into the thick of the branches and leaves. Scorpius wasn’t happy about it.

“Jake come on! Get down here! You gotta tell me what to do!” Jacob only shouted down something inane about a new bird’s nest, telling Scorpius he ought to come up. Scorpius, annoyed, wet, and hating his stupid life, stood up and kicked the tree trunk in a fit of peevishness. “If you don’t get down here I’m leaving!” He waited a beat, hearing no response and sighed. “Jake, I’m going home!” Close to tears because his whole summer was ruined and now Jacob wouldn’t talk to him, Scorpius started to walk home. Reaching the playground, he heard Jacob’s frantic _Scorp, wait!_ and spun on his heel to look.

By the time Scorpius realized what was happening, it was too late. Jacob’s panicked scream sent a chill down his spine and he froze in place as he watched his friend fall from the branches. There was a horrid thunk and a revolting _crack_ , as Jacob’s body hit the ground. It took a long moment for Scorpius to realize he was screaming and his legs were sending him to where his friend was lying in a heap. He came crashing down next to Jacob, hands shaking him, begging, but Jake’s eyes were wide open and staring out at nothing. He didn’t move. There was a lot of shouting and Scorpius was roughly grabbed up and shoved over to a stranger, a woman, but Scorpius couldn’t see anything because he was crying too hard and struggling to get back to Jacob.

Luckily, a girl from Jacob’s school was at the playground and told the adults their names because Scorpius was too busy getting sick and crying. He heard the adults whispering nearby, telling each other what happened. _Must have slipped on a branch. It’s been raining all day, must have been sopping wet…yes, that’s right, his neck. Dead when he hit the ground, poor mite._

It was awful and Scorpius couldn’t feel anything and couldn’t remember telling anyone anything, but it wasn’t too long before his parents showed up. His mum was crying and his father looked pale, and Scorpius couldn’t do anything but succumb to their hugs.

“It happened so fast,” he mumbled harshly into his mother’s shoulder, “I couldn’t—” He cut himself off with a fresh round of sobs and his mother hugged him tighter to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Year

_It was a big big world, but we thought we were bigger_

 

September 1, 2011 meant Scorpius was standing next to the Hogwarts Express saying goodbye to his parents. The whole platform was crowded and loud and hot, and he was having trouble focusing on only one thing. His mother was reminding him about studying hard and not winding his teachers up, being respectful and all that. Scorpius truthfully didn’t need the reminder because the only reason he ever teased Miss Delacour was because she got distracted thinking about her boyfriend, then fiancé, now husband. Sometimes she would repeat herself a few times without realizing it. So he ignored his mother’s warnings in favor of following his father’s distracted gaze. It was directed toward a large group of people with an absurd amount of red hair. One of the older men (with untidy black hair, which is why he stood out), probably somebody’s parent, noticed his father watching and nodded in their direction before turning his attention to a boy nearby.

“Who is that, father? Do you know him?” Scorpius asked, examining the children. The black haired man was crouching in front of a boy with the same mop of black hair. There was a girl with wild red hair not too far away, hugging her mother. Another boy, taller and smirking, ran through the lot of them, teasing a much smaller red haired boy before flinging himself onto the train. Madman.

“That’s Harry Potter, Scorpius.” _Oh_. Mr. Malfoy had sat his son down and explained some things about Harry Potter and his big family. He explained some things about the war and where the Malfoys had cast their lot. He explained that children at school might not like him because of his last name. “You remember what I told you about them?”

“Yes, father, but I think it’s stupid.” Really, truly, the whole thing sounded like utter rot to him. But Mr. Malfoy narrowed his gray eyes at his son reproachfully.

“I don’t care. No matter what they say or do to you, you’re to be nothing but polite. One owl home about fights with the Weasleys or Potters and you’ll sorely regret it.”

“Yes, father.”

“That’ll be Mr. Potter’s son, Albus there, and that’s Mrs. Granger-Weasley with her daughter, Rose, who is Albus’ cousin. They’re both your year. You don’t have to like them, but I expect you to behave yourself. And to best them in all of your classes, of course.”

“Of course, father,” Scorpius said glumly, looking over at the pair of them. They didn’t _look_ mean. But then, people never really looked mean until you knew them. Except for Geoff and Gregory, those berks had always looked foul to Scorpius. He shut that thought down quickly, not wanting the name association to make him cry again. Scorpius felt his father’s hand in his hair, smoothing it back in an effort to straighten out the curled spots. Useless, if you asked Scorpius, but Mr. Malfoy never did. Scorpius looked up at his father, who was smiling down at him.

“You’re going to do just fine,” his father said firmly kissing the top of his head. He lingered there, words muffled against Scorpius’ hair, “And I know it hurts, but try to make some friends. Jake wouldn’t want you to be sad all the time.” Scorpius’ eyes pricked with tears hearing the name he never said anymore. He pulled back and looked up at his father again, offering him a halfhearted smile. Then his mother kissed him once more before they put him on the train.

The train ride was pretty uneventful. He was in a compartment with a bunch of girls who all seemed to know each other, so he sat by the window and read quietly. Wizzy had stitched him another hanky, so he was using it as a bookmark and trying not to crumple it too much in his nervousness. His mother had told him all about Hogwarts, everything she could remember, and it sounded brilliant. But his father’s warnings about people hating him and the fact that _all_ Malfoys had been in Slytherin while almost  all of his mum’s family had been in Ravenclaw, made his gut churn and clench. Neither one _said_ they would be disappointed, but somehow he’d gotten the impression that they would be. Maybe the Sorting Hat would be merciful and put him in Hufflepuff so he could disappoint everyone all at once.

Riding across the lake in the boats was wicked. It was too dark to see much, but he was already eager to explore the grounds. And the bloke directing them, Hagrid, was _huge_ and really funny. Scorpius hung back so he could ride in his boat with him and they chatted about his various pets. When they docked, Hagrid patted his head and asked him to come visit his hut sometime. Scorpius was a little relieved that _somebody_ liked him already. However, he was a little unnerved when he saw Hagrid hugging and kissing Rose Weasley and Albus Potter in the Entrance Hall. There were a few other boys and girls hanging around by them too, all accepting hugs from Hagrid. Maybe Hagrid just didn’t realize what his name meant. With a sigh, Scorpius looked away and tried to join the fold of his classmates. He was too keyed up to think much. But then there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see an average looking boy with dark skin and neat robes. He was holding out his hand.

“You’re Scorpius Malfoy, aren’t you?” Scorpius nodded, not certain how this was supposed to go. “I’m Tyler Zabini. Our fathers were in Slytherin together.” Scorpius searched his head for the name, but came up empty. His father didn’t talk much about his days at school.

“Sorry, haven’t heard your name.” Tyler looked at him oddly, almost like he thought he was joking or lying. But he really wasn’t. Scorpius didn’t know any Zabinis. But then he just shrugged and took his hand back, standing silently. Bored, and a little tired of waiting around, Scorpius let his gaze drift back to where Albus Potter stood with his red headed girl cousin. They were holding hands, heads bent together as they whispered.

“They look like gits, don’t they?” Tyler said idly, following his gaze. “Cocky arseholes just cause everyone thinks their parents are so great.” Scorpius didn’t really like his tone. It sounded too much like Geoff’s when he was being a prat to somebody. Besides, they looked like everybody else did. Maybe they were standing like that because they were really nervous too. If Ja—Scorpius cut off that train of thought.

“They look pretty normal to me,” Scorpius muttered back, not wanting to engage.

Tyler snorted, “I’ll bet _you_ hate the lot of ‘em. I can’t wait to try out hexes on them.” The enthusiasm in his voice was disgusting. To make it worse, there were a couple of murmurs of agreement from the people standing around them. He spared a blank thought for what his father had said about the Weasley-Potter children and then sneered at Tyler.

“I don’t _hate_ anyone. And using magic on people like that is _wrong_.” Tyler, and three boys standing behind him which Scorpius now recognized as his little gang, snickered and scoffed at him. Tyler turned to them jokingly.

“Listen to that, lads, a _coward_ just like his father.”

Scorpius froze. His father hadn’t really warned him about this. Not this part of it anyway. Maybe he hadn’t thought of it. But Scorpius was suddenly livid; angry that bullies were everywhere, angry that he hadn’t even spoken more than a few sentences and people were already on his back, angry that he didn’t know anyone and the only person who had ever backed him up was gone. Inhaling sharply, he glared at Tyler and then strode purposefully in the direction of Albus Potter and his cousin. They looked up in confusion as he stood in front of them, hand out and nostrils flared.

“My name’s Scorpius Malfoy,” he started evenly. Scorpius used his free one to gesture toward a very dumbstruck looking Tyler Zabini. “That prat says that I’m supposed to hate you and I’d rather not.” He paused, taking in the other boy’s big green eyes which were riddled with curiosity instead of the surprise he’d expected (or the disgust, he silently amended). “If that’s all right with you,” he tacked on nervously. There was a silent beat before Albus Potter took his hand and shook it.

“Al Potter. This is my cousin, Rose Weasley.”

“I know,” Scorpius said taking his hand back. That earned him a couple of raised brows. He smiled and shrugged. “Reputation precedes you.”

“So does yours!” Al laughed good naturedly. Rose was smiling too, albeit much more quietly. “And here everyone is telling me you’re supposed to be some kind of spoiled git. See that, Rosie?” he nudged his cousin. “Told you your dad’s a nutter.” Scorpius looked at her a little amused by the exchange and her ears turned bright red.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “Dad’s a little overprotective.”

“Well,” Scorpius responded agreeably, not wanting her to think he agreed with Al’s assessment of her father, “If it helps, I am pretty spoiled.” She didn’t answer, but she smiled at him.

The sorting went a lot better than Scorpius had expected. He stood close to Al and Rose, who introduced him to their friend, Frank Longbottom. Scorpius was a little surprised to meet the headmaster’s son, but Frank brushed that off, insisting that he wasn’t some goody goody just because his dad was running the place. Scorpius decided he liked him almost immediately. As the first on the list of their foursome, Frank was sorted into Hufflepuff. His father was famously Gryffindor, but from his seat at the professors’ table was beaming and clapping. Scorpius was called up not too long after Frank. He turned to Al who gave him a double thumbs-up and he walked toward the hat.

Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, Professor Lavender Brown, stood at the front of the professors’ table, waiting for him. She was a gorgeous women with long, honey brown curly and strange scars which ran along her cheek and neck. It didn’t seem to detract from her radiance however, nor were they hidden from view. She smiled brightly at him as he sat, and placed the raggedy old hat on his head.

_I resent that, boy. I’m rather young for a hat._

Sorry! Just looks like you could use a little sprucing up.

_From your lips to Merlin’s ears. Now lookie here, another Malfoy. Oh, but that Greengrass in you is strong, too. Kind-hearted and loyal, but so very, very sad…you would do well in Hufflepuff, young man._

But I’m a Malfoy. Malfoys are Slytherins.

_You sound very convinced of that. And I can see how you long to prove yourself. Very well then, better be..._

“Slytherin!” the hat shouted and Scorpius felt his shoulders sink in relief. No one else had the hat on their heads so long. It was a little embarrassing, and he already knew he was blushing because his face was so hot. He was welcomed warmly at the Slytherin table and passed some pumpkin juice to calm his nerves.

Much to everyone’s surprise, and Rose Weasley’s misery, Al Potter was also sorted into Slytherin. The hat hardly touched his head before it was yelling out his new house. Scorpius saw Al shoot his cousin a rather regretful look, but he bounded over to the seat next to Scorpius nonetheless. Rose was one of the last people to go, and no one was much surprised when she was sorted into Gryffindor like the majority of her cousins. Scorpius scowled when Tyler Zabini joined them at the Slytherin table.

Once everyone was seated, Professor Longbottom gave his start of term speech, reminding everyone to study hard but enjoy themselves. The Forbidden Forest was, as always, _forbidden_ , and that Mr. Filch would be posting a fresh list of contraband items in the Lupin Common, so be advised before you buy.

“What’s the Lupin Common?” Scorpius asked no one in particular. A third year across the table answered before Al could.

“Inter-house common room,” he said quietly. Oh, his mother never mentioned that. She only said there were separate house common rooms.

“It’s named after my brother’s dad,” Al added seriously.

Scorpius’ brow furrowed, “Isn’t your brother’s dad _your_ dad?” This was not a crazy question, but Al rolled his eyes.

“He’s not really my brother, he’s my dad’s godson. But his parents died in the war, so his gran and my parents basically raised him.”

“Oh,” Scorpius offered stupidly. He didn’t really know what to say to that. Mostly because his parents never really talked about the war with him. Not in any great detail, and here Al Potter was bringing it up like it was casual conversation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Al shrugged, “He was just born when it happened, so he never knew different.”

“Still…” He was cut off when Professor Longbottom clapped his hands loudly and the tables suddenly filled with food. There were gasps and loud cheers, everyone excited to tuck in. The meal went by without much fanfare. Al and Scorpius chatted happily about their lives and their families, about what they were hoping to learn and that they were both desperate to explore the grounds and castle. They asked the third year and his friend across from them, Dave Bealmont and Jessica Lacroix, several hundred questions about anything and everything they could think of. The third years were more than happy to impart their wisdom to their new housemates. Laughingly, they told him and Al all about the prank wars they had going with the Weasley-Potters and all their friends. It must have been an amiable arrangement because they cursed them fondly and swore thematic vengeance with bright smiles that reached their eyes.  Jessica was in French club with Al’s cousin, Louis, who Al informed Scorpius, was an absolute berk. From the look on Jessica’s face, she didn’t seem to think so. When their housemates excused themselves to go visit with friends, Scorpius saw Al’s eyes scan the crowd for the Gryffindor table.

“Are they mad, do you think?” Scorpius asked him gently, predicting that his new friend was thinking about how many of his family members were in Gryffindor.

“My cousins won’t be…” he offered blandly.

“Then who—?”

His query was interrupted by a body barreling into Al, sending his fork flying only for it to disappear before it smacked a seventh year girl in the face. Scorpius had to jump to get out of the way, watching the whole thing in a panic.

“Albie, you little tosser!” Al’s attacker cooed as he gave Al a noogie. Al was fighting to get him off, protesting. Even a few Slytherins were hurling insults and snapping at _Potter_ to cut it out. “All right, all right, unbunch, won’t you?” The boy wedged himself into the small space Scorpius had abandoned, throwing an arm around Al and picking at the food on his plate.

“ _James!_ ” Al whined, “Quit it! Would you move? You’re going to knock Scorpius from his seat!”

James brushed this off, “All’s I wanted was to come congratulate my little baby rebel brother!” he laughed. “You’re a _huge_ disappointment to us all.”

“Oh shut it!” Al snapped, swatting at the hands grabbing for his pie. “And move so Scorpius can get back to his dinner, you brute!”

“Scorpius?” James repeated, whipping his head around. His upper torso twisted until he met Scorpius’ dumbfounded gaze straight on. James Potter had unruly hair, somewhere between auburn and brown and mischievous hazel eyes covered by glasses. There was an utterly mad smirk on his lips and his brows were shot straight up. “Scorpius _Malfoy_?” They stared at each other, regarding one another with acute interest. Al seemed to be excitable, but even when still, James Potter was buzzing with energy. It was a little off-putting, but sort of amusing at the same time. Scorpius offered him an awkward hand, bending his arm in the small space.

“That’s right,” he answered, “You’re Al’s brother?” The smirk faded and his expression was less enthused as he took Scorpius’ hand.

“James Potter,” he responded stiffly. “Al’s very confused brother.” He dropped Scorpius’ hand suddenly and whipped back to his younger brother.

“What’re you sitting next to _him_ for?” he demanded imperiously. Scorpius wanted to be annoyed, he really did, but this was exactly what his father had told him about.

“I like him!” Al protested with a shove, “So you can just piss off.” The two brothers squabbled for a minute until James distracted Al long enough to swipe his plate and run off with it. He didn’t get very far with it because a scowling sixth year Slytherin accio’d it from his hands and set it back in front of Al.

“We look after our own here,” the boy explained, “Even if you are a Potter.”

“I like being a Potter, _thanks_!” Al snapped, not at all grateful apparently. The boy scoffed and turned back to his conversation. Scorpius felt a wave of guilt crash over him, upset that he’d caused a rift between the brothers. Though, in all fairness, he _had_ been polite. As they settled back to their meals, Scorpius saw Al looking at him and raised a brow questioningly.

“Sorry bout James,” he muttered glumly. “He’s such a git…” Al let out a long sigh. “I think he’ll come around, but I understand if you don’t want to be friends.”

That caught Scorpius completely off guard. Not at all what he’d expected the boy to say. And quite against his say-so, he remembered a similar conversation from four years ago, and that strong sense of protectiveness surged up in his throat.

“Well…” Scorpius said slowly. “I don’t know about your brother. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.” He shrugged. “That’s not really my problem. But I like you just fine, and I’ll be nice to him if you want me to.”

Al’s head snapped up straight like a startled deer’s, his eyes bugging out. “ _Really_?”

Scorpius was startled by his being startled, “Yeah. Really.” He saw a familiar face heading in their direction. “Hey, there’s Frank. Who’s that with him?” Al whipped around, waving them over, but not answering til they arrived. The two boys took the open seats across from Al and Scorpius, Frank swiping a kipper from Scorpius’ plate.

“Ey lads,” he said with his mouth full, “Blimey, you’ve got a good spread here.” He started filling an empty plate with food, much to the annoyance of their housemates who silently rolled their eyes.

“Frank, we’ve got the same food!” the other boy protested. Frank was adamant that they did not, or he just didn’t really care. Al rubbed his temples.

“Al and Scorpius, this is Donald MacMillan,” Frank introduced them, pointing to each person in turn, “Donnie, Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy.” Donnie reached for Al’s hand no problem, but he hesitated with Scorpius. Again, this wasn’t unexpected and Scorpius figured he’d just have to get used to it, people pausing like that. He supposed Hogwarts was already used to hearing the name Potter tossed around; it would get used to Malfoy again, too.

“Donnie, I don’t know you,” Al gritted out, “But Scorpius is my friend so if you’ve got something to say…” Donnie MacMillan snapped out of his stupor and blinked a few times at Al before shaking it off and taking Scorpius hand in a firm shake.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “Is the name is all. You hear stuff.”

Frank nudged him roughly, “Not on, _Donald_. Malfoy here’s a good sort. Shouldn’t have to tell _you_ about not judging people fer their daddies.” Donnie spat his tongue out at him and looked at Scorpius directly to apologize. Al smoothly intervened and switched gears.

“How’s Rose? Did you see her?”                                      

Frank shrugged broadly, swallowing his potatoes first, “Seemed a’ight. Dead disappointed, but she’ll get over it. She’s got the rest of ‘em to watch out for her right? How much trouble can she get in?”

“Have you met Rose?” Al asked with no small amount of sarcasm. Scorpius didn’t get what they were on about, though. To him, Rose Weasley seemed pretty quiet and shy. Not exactly the sort to get into trouble.

Frank rolled his eyes dramatically, “She’ll be _fine_ , you fretting fretter.” He turned his unimpressed look to Scorpius. “She’s only upset because she wanted to be in the same house as Al because the others are always picking on her. Buuhht, she really wanted Gryffindor cause of her dad.” Donnie snorted and Frank nudged him again. “Don’t know what you’re playing at. _Your dad_ was Hufflepuff too. And your mum.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Scorpius asked mildly, very much interested in the answer. Hufflepuff didn’t sound so bad, and their dorm was right next to the kitchens. But Frank was scowling and Al’s shoulders shook with laughter as he jabbed his finger at Scorpius.

“My dad was Gryffindor, right? But I told that barmy hat that if it put me there, I’d set ‘im on fire.”

“That’s so aggressive,” Al teased.

Frank sneered, “Talk to me when _your_ dad runs the bloody school.” But Al shrugged.

“He’s coming to guest lecture this year.”

Frank and Donnie cheered and high fived. “ _Brilliant_. We might actually learn something cool.”

“Your dad’s an Auror right?” Scorpius asked Al quietly. They were encroaching upon sensitive subjects, but Scorpius figured if they didn’t clear some of it out of the way then it might get weird. Al nodded.

“Mum says they’ll make him Head soon. But I don’t think he’s too happy about that. He likes teaching better, and says the paperwork is something awful.”

Scorpius filed that information away, nodding along and interjecting every so often as the conversation continued. He gleaned that Al and Frank knew each other from nappies because Professor Longbottom was really close with both of Al’s parents. And Frank’s mum and Donnie’s dad were really good friends from school, so they occasionally had holidays together. Donnie and Al never met because Al’s parents tried to keep them out of the wizarding world too much, but they’d heard of each other plenty. Scorpius didn’t offer up much about his own background, about the fact that the only magical children he knew were his Greengrass cousins who lived in France. About…well, about all of it. The other three didn’t seem overly put off by it, though, and were perfectly fine filling the gaps in conversation.

It was only later when he and Al were in their dormitory, getting dressed for bed that Al asked if he’d had many friends before. Scorpius shook his head.

“Just the one,” he answered vaguely.

“Oh,” Al jumping to sit on his bed, “Do they go here?”

Scorpius knew it was an innocent question, asked out of sheer goodwill. He knew it wasn’t meant to hurt him or insult him or even remotely upset him. He had the distinct impression that if he said yes, Al would go out of his way to befriend that person just because they were friends with Scorpius. But it felt like a knife had twisted in his gut and his eyes burned for it.

“No,” Scorpius answered softly. Instead of explaining, he climbed into his own bed and slid under the covers. Maybe one day he’d tell Al and the others about him, but it had been over a year and it still hurt to _think_ his name.

*

It took all of five days for Scorpius to realize that his name and his friendship with Al Potter were going to give him grief for a very long time. Al, by himself, was a breath of fresh air after a year of isolating himself from others. He was brash and loud and emotive in ways that boys their age just weren’t. Not to mention he was _smart_. He was precocious and witty and studious much like Scorpius was. He was also funny without being cruel; kids usually weren’t funny like Al was without being mean to somebody. And in those first few days, Scorpius knew without a doubt that he and Al were best mates.

He also knew without a doubt that people were skeptical of their spending time together. Opinions, especially in their own house, were divided. Some were upset that Al Potter was hanging around a “Baby Death Eater” and others called Scorpius a blood traitor for befriending “Savior Jr.” Then there was the general flack they got from upperclassmen for being first years. Their one reprieve was that they weren’t sharing dorm with Zabini, and his thug friends, Otto Nott, and Caleb Jorkin, who seemed determined to make them as miserable as possible. Just in those first five days, the trio went out of their way to trip, knock into, and openly mock Al and Scorpius. It was much easier when Slytherin was paired with Hufflepuff, during Charms and Herbology, because their housemates seemed disinclined to mess with Frank Longbottom. He was bigger than most of the boys in their year, although being the headmaster’s son didn’t hurt anything either.

But during the last class on that fifth day, Potions with Gryffindor, Scorpius found out why Al and Frank had been so worried about Rose getting into trouble. The first half of class was fine. Professor Erron wasn’t letting them mix up anything just yet, they were still being taught some basic theory and about basic ingredients. Erron was having them separate out ingredients by potion, from where they were spread out on their tables. Scorpius and Al quickly paired up with Rose and Delilah Finnigan setting up next to them. Scorpius didn’t particularly mind either of the girls. Rose could get annoying, but Delilah was pretty quiet overall. He was more focused on the work, anyway. Rose and Al chatted alongside each other, with Scorpius and Delilah chiming in occasionally; they handed things back and forth, cutting their supplies into equal parts so they could create sets for each potion. There was a low thrum of conversation, and Professor Erron was deep in discussion with a group of Slytherins near the front. So she didn’t hear Nott and Zabini making fun of Scorpius and his friends. Scorpius, having spent a chunk of his childhood ignoring bullies, didn’t feel the need to respond. Next to him, Delilah was extremely embarrassed by it, being unused to the attention. This infuriated Al, who was a little defensive of the quiet girl already. And Rose? Scorpius watched her quietly fume, eyes narrowing and ears turning a furious shade of crimson. As Scorpius continued to separate out his ingredients, occasionally handing them across to Al, and watched her lip quiver as Zabini honed in on her discontent. What really did it was his comment about _ginger halfbreeds_. No one had time to stop her before she whipped around.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth Zabini before we have a class discussion about _your_ father’s nastiness, you loathsome little toad!” she hissed, curly red hair flaring as she twisted.

Zabini’s face twisted into a sneer, “At least he’s not some mudblood nutter—!” Scorpius anticipated Rose lunging for the other boy, so he quickly moved and reached out to grab her arm. He had to shake off the burning look of hate she shot at him, reminding himself that _he_ hadn’t said that foul word.

“It’s not worth it,” he insisted firmly, eyes darting over to the snickering pair behind them, before settling on Rose again. Her bright blue eyes were wild with fury, but she seemed frozen under his scrutiny. She was distracted long enough for Al to send a blowing charm in the direction of Nott and Zabini’s work table, effectively sending all of their neatly arranged ingredients to the floor.

“Oh, will you look at that?” Al said in faux exaggerated sympathy, “Rotten luck, lads.” Al’s raised voice attracted Professor Erron’s attention, thus preventing any kind of retaliation so the two boys were forced to clean up the mess and resort to throwing dirty looks in their direction. As the tension dissipated between the three pairs, it increased between Scorpius and Rose. She yanked her arm away from him, gaze unrelenting in its anger, but it wasn’t enough for Scorpius to feel sorry for it. He’d understood implicitly that she would have lashed out in some overaggressive manner that would have gotten her in trouble. Al had handled it beautifully, discreet and subtle but intensely annoying. It had been the right decision. And yet, he knew that he’d created a divide between him and the Weasley girl.

Class continued without further incident, though Scorpius had some trepidation when they were dismissed. He saw Nott and Zabini shoot over to where Jorkin was bullying his partner into cleaning everything up. Al followed his gaze and nudged him.

“Come on. We gotta go meet Frank and Donnie.” They were supposed to spend their free hour before dinner in Lupin Common with the two Hufflepuffs. As they walked out, Al was trying to convince Rose to come with. Delilah agreed, but Rose glared over at Scorpius before trying to make excuses to her cousin. They were halfway to the stairwell when they came face to face with Zabini, Nott, and Jorkin. It seemed they weren’t quite finished yet. Scorpius sensed the pair of cousins take decisive steps in front of Delilah, leaving it three on three. He tried to ignore the way the students around them slowed and accumulated, whispering.

“Hey Potter, how does it feel being Malfoy's new lap dog? Slumming makes you look desperate. Or didn’t your father tell you?” Zabini sneered at him. Scorpius automatically shot an arm out to keep Al in place. Coolly, he rolled his eyes.

“You shouldn’t speak, Zabini, lowers the collective IQ.” He kept his voice as even and bored as possible. He was used to being taunted, and even hearing his friends be taunted, but anger was roiling in his gut.

“At least I don’t debase myself hanging around halfbreeds and mudbloods.” White hot anger shot through Scorpius. That word again. That word which wasn’t even applicable, that word that his father had taught him at a young age to never say.

“Right, of course. You just make these stinking cretins follow you around like dumb brutes. Do you two always smell like that or is it just the combination that’s so offensive?” Jorkin growled but Nott held him off. Even so, both Al and Rose had drawn their wands. Scorpius could only wonder what kinds of spells they already knew, having so many older cousins.

“Coward blood traitors like you always get it in the end,” Zabini spat, “Just ask your father and bitch of a mother. I hear she had to boff your tutors just so they would agree to be in the same room as the _Malfoy heir_.” This time there was no staying hand. This time Scorpius didn’t think anything through. He shot from his spot next to Al, wand clattering to the floor.

_CRACK_

Scorpius’ hand connected with Zabini’s nose. He heard Rose’s indignant squawk.

“So he gets to hit him, but _I_ don’t?!”

_THUMP_

The two of them hitting the floor as Scorpius kept laying into his victim.

Though he was completely unaware of it, Jorkin had lunged for him only to be barreled over by Al, who had also forgotten about his wand. Jorkin was big enough to get back up, but Al was persistent and held onto his neck. Nott lunged to help Jorkin, but after slamming his fist into Zabini’s solar plexus, Scorpius grabbed his foot, effectively tripping him up. Scorpius vaguely registered a feminine voice shouting a freezing spell too advanced for a first year, but was soon struggling with Zabini again.

 _IMMOBULUS_!

The girlish shriek echoed down the corridor and was followed up by snappish orders for other students to disperse and summoning the boys’ wands. Scorpius, completely frozen in place where he was position to slam his fist into Zabini’s face, registered the clatter of students running to get out of her way. “Her” being Victoire “Vix” Weasley. Even if he hadn’t befriended her cousin, Scorpius would have known who Vix Weasley was. Not only was she the eldest of the Weasley-Potters, but she was also Head Girl. With her big blue eyes, platinum blonde hair that fell in natural waves, and her veela laugh, she was widely considered to be the prettiest girl at Hogwarts too. More than half the school was in love with her. Scorpius couldn’t deny that he was drawn to her himself. But he was also very aware of the fact that the Weasley-Potter clan was _terrified_ of her and her temper. She stormed by where he was engaged with Zabini to stand in the middle and release the spell. She then shot another nonverbal command that brought the five of them to their feet and set them up against the wall to face her.

“Fighting in the corridor!” she shouted shrilly, “With your fists no less! Like common brutes in a tavern! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!” Scorpius winced at her volume. “Someone had better start talking before I hex you into the infirmary!”  Of course, this meant that all five of them start talking at once, blaming the other party. Vix let out a piercing groan, putting a muffling spell on all of them so that all you could hear was their mumbled protests.

“Rose!” she shouted. “Tell me what happened.”

Rose scowled, glaring at them. “Scorpius hit Tyler. And then Al jumped in to stop Otto and Caleb from hitting Scorpius.” Al’s protests were immediate and vehement. But Rose stamped her foot, “I wasn’t finished!” she cried. “Scorpius only hit Tyler because he said _foul_ things about his mum and dad and kept calling us halfbreeds and mudbloods.” Even Scorpius shivered at the venomous glare Vix turned on the first year Slytherin. Al snorted when he saw the boy flinch. Scorpius gingerly touched his face where Zabini had elbowed him and winced at the pain, only to see his marred knuckles which started throbbing at that point. His mum was going to _murder_ him.

“Hospital wing,” she seethed, vibrating with anger, “ _all_ of you. And then we’ll be talking to the Headmaster.” She told Rose and Delilah to go inform the Headmaster what had happened, and marched the boys to the stairwell. She made Zabini, Nott, and Jorkin walk ahead of her and kept Al and Scorpius at her sides. She cuffed Al upside the head as they walked.

“Harry and Ginny are going to _kill you_ , Albus Severus,” she hissed between her teeth.

“Don’t call me that, _Victoire Maxime_.” Scorpius suppressed a laugh when her nose wrinkled at the sound of her full name. She must have heard him because she turned on him.

“Don’t you laugh, Scorpius!” she snapped, “I’ll be writing my Aunt Gabrielle the first chance I get!” Scorpius winced. Drat. He’d forgotten Vix was her niece. Al leaned around her front, eyebrows up.

“You know Gaby?” Vix swatted at him, so they leaned behind her back.

“Tutor,” he said.

“Boys!”

“Sorry,” they intoned.

If they thought Vix was bad, Madame Pomfrey was worse. At the sight of their rumpled clothes and bloody noses, she started lecturing them about their behavior. _Fighting in the corridors. Like drunken louts. Harry Potter’s_ son. Scorpius was fairly certain that she covered everything their parents would have said and it was punishment enough. Vix stormed out for a long few minutes while the healer cleaned them up and healed their bruises and bloodied knuckles. Then she came flying back in to collect them, and ushered them up to the Headmaster’s office on the third floor.  She ordered Nott, Jorkin, and Zabini up first. She made Al and Scorpius stand up against the wall while they waited. Vix was huffy and shaking her head.

“I cannot _believe_ you,” she muttered hotly. “Not even a _week_ into term!”

“Zabini started it!” Al shot back, unafraid of her wrath. “You would have done the same for Teddy or Lucy.”

“ _Teddy_ ,” she said crossing her arms, “Never punched anyone in the face!”

Scorpius heard Al inhale sharply and he winced again. He knew already that Al, like most of his cousins, idolized Teddy Lupin. They’d been raised like brothers, and Al seemed to always want Teddy’s good opinion. However, this didn’t stop him from crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Vix.

“ _Scorpius is my friend_ ,” he gritted out meaningfully. Scorpius had the distinct impression that he was missing something because Vix reddened furiously. But she didn’t respond. She turned away, running a hand through her long tresses, pointedly ignoring them. Their housemates were soon bounding down the office stairs, snickering and smirking among themselves. Vix ordered them back to their common room until dinner, then she turned on her cousin and Scorpius and pushed them toward the gargoyle. Al and Scorpius shared a glance of trepidation before the continued ascending the stairs.

When they entered the office at the sound of Professor Longbottom’s faint _Come in!_ , Scorpius had to take a moment to process everything he was seeing. The Headmaster’s office was quite different from how Dumbledore had kept it during their fathers’ school days. The big mahogany desk was still there, and the portraits, now running amok to whisper to one another, still graced the walls. _A Malfoy and a Potter? Would you look at that…Never thought I’d see the day…_ Even Albus Dumbledore had hopped over to speak lowly to Severus Snape, and they were both shooting unabashed smirks in Al’s direction. Al, unintimidated by his namesakes’ portraits he’d met before, stuck his tongue out at them. They laughed.

“Please have a seat, gentlemen, I’ll only be a moment,” Professor Longbottom called out from somewhere in the back. He and Al shot each other a look before sitting in the cushy armchairs that faced the big desk. Al was content to slide down low in the chair and stare straight ahead, but Scorpius kept to the edge of his seat to look around. The shelves were stuffed to the brim with books, reference tomes that came in multiple volumes and editions. There seemed to be some kind of order to the chaos, but it was, in fact, chaotic. Every other available surface was taken up by potted plants. Some were short and spikey, others had long-flowing vines. Some had vibrant blossoms that emitted heavy fragrances, but most did not. Some moved threateningly and looked like they had fangs, but, thankfully, most did not. A moment later, Professor Longbottom emerged from a sea of green with a watering can at hand, explaining that he had to pay attention to a certain plant (with a Latin name Scorpius couldn’t pronounce) several times a day until it bloomed, and that it had all these medicinal properties. Al didn’t seem too bothered by this speech, probably very used to it actually, but Scorpius was bewildered by the nonessential details when his hand still hurt from punching another student in the nose. The headmaster set the watering can down and went to perch a hip on the edge of his desk, arms folded over his chest. Scorpius then noticed that for being so tall, the Headmaster Robes fit him almost perfectly. It was a deep purple with embroidered stars that twinkled and leapt across the fabric.

“Right then, who wants to start?”

Before Scorpius could open his mouth, Al was ramrod straight and talking a mile a minute about every detail of what had happened. He was effusively defensive of Scorpius’ actions, even going so far as to take some of the blame himself. Their headmaster’s face remained remarkably impassive throughout. It probably figured that just as Al was accustomed to the professor’s lectures on plant-life, he was also accustomed to Al’s passionate rants. Scorpius however was torn between being annoyed that Al didn’t seem to think Scorpius could take care of himself, and being humbled that he had such a loyal friend. It was a toss-up. By the end of it Al slumped back in his seat, red in the face from not taking enough breaths while he talked. Professor Longbottom looked vaguely amused.

“And you did all of this because of some paltry comments about Mr. Malfoy’s parents?” he asked Al with a brow raised skeptically. Al’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s my best mate,” Al told him emphatically, making Professor Longbottom lean back just so is amused surprise. Even Scorpius blushed at his friend’s vehemence. “He would have done the same for me!” Al followed up insistently, at which Scorpius quickly nodded. Half of the reason he’d snapped was because of the _halfbreed_ and _mudblood_ comments anyway. He hadn’t met all the Weasley-Potters yet, but he suspected that he’d like a big portion of them, even if they didn’t really like him. And besides, it reminded him too much of Geoff spitting out the words _poor_ and _street rat_ like they were dirty words. No one deserved to be talked to like that, _especially_ not Al and his favorite cousin. Even if Rose wasn’t particularly fond of him at the moment. Professor Longbottom’s gaze swung to Scorpius.

“And is all of this _true_ to your knowledge, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Uncle Nev!” Al protested. This earned him sharply raised eyebrows. “ _Professor Longbottom_ ,” he gritted out in amendment, “You don’t believe me?”  Scorpius saw a smile tug at the man’s lips.

“I do.” He pushed himself from his spot at his desk to walk around and sit behind it. He sat straight with his hands folded in his lap, watching the pair of them. “However, since I was told by several witnesses that Mr. Malfoy threw the first punch, I would like to hear his side of things.” Awfully lenient of him, Scorpius thought quietly. Whenever he got into trouble at home, Scorpius’ father only took into account what the house elves had to say about it. Not because Scorpius would necessarily lie, but because the elves couldn’t. It was faster. And Al wasn’t about to lie to his father’s best friend of all people, so there was really no need for Scorpius’ testimony. He sighed.

“We had potions together with Gryffindor. Me, Al, Rose, and Delilah Finnigan were working together in a cluster. Zabini and Nott were behind us and kept making comments…” Al had left this part of the story out, since obviously what had happened in the corridor was enough to justify their actions to his mind. Not for Scorpius, though.

“What kind of comments?” Professor Longbottom asked gravely.

“Nasty ones. Mostly about Rose. They said some stuff about me too, but I wasn’t really listening.” He shrugged. “Rose was closer so she must have heard everything. They kept calling her a halfbreed and then called someone the m-word...”

“Her _mum_ ,” Al supplied coldly. Scorpius winced. He’d forgotten that Mrs. Granger-Weasley was muggleborn. That’s why Rose was so upset about it. He hadn’t really given it much thought beyond stopping her from slugging the tosser.

“I see. And how did Rose respond?” He was a quick one, their professor, Scorpius would give him that.

“I didn’t let her, sir,” Scorpius answered quickly. “Al distracted them enough to get Professor Erron’s attention, so they stopped bothering us.”

“But it continued in the corridor,” he prompted. Scorpius looked over at Al, whose lips were twisted up in a sneer, probably remembering their exchange.

“Yes, sir. We were walking to the stairwell and Zabini, Nott, and Jorkin cut us off. Zabini started calling them halfbreeds and the m-word again. I tried not to get upset, at first, because being called a coward and blood traitor doesn’t really mean anything to me, and I didn’t want Al and Rose to get in trouble, and Delilah was there and she was scared and she could have gotten _hurt_ sir, but…”

“But you hit Mr. Zabini anyway?”

He slumped. The boys back home had always made comments about people’s mums being slags and whatnot. It was a common, blunt lob of an insult used to provoke. Scorpius had never taken the bait because those kids didn’t know his mum or anything about her at all, so it didn’t matter. But Zabini’s father had gone to school with his. Aunt Daphne was in their year and a Slytherin, too. So Zabini’s nastiness had been a pointed weapon that lodged itself right between Scorpius’ ribs. He hadn’t been prepared for it. Not like that.

“He called my mother a foul name and insinuated that she prostitutes herself out to my tutors so that they would agree to tutor former Death Eater Draco Malfoy’s son.”

A sardonic smile graced the headmaster’s lips, “And here I was under the impression that Gabrielle Delacour was your tutor.”

“Perrin, sir,” he corrected, “She got married last month.” The smile faded.

“But you take my point.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well,” he continued with an amused grin, “You’ve already broken your father’s record for troublemaking,” the headmaster informed Al with no small amount of amusement. “He didn’t sneak out of the dormitory to duel Mr. Malfoy’s father until the _second_ week of term.”

“ _What!?_ ” the boys shouted in unison, jumping in their seats. This made the headmaster toss his head back to laugh uproariously, so much so that tears pricked his eyes. He twisted in his seat to look at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

“I really am sorry, Professor,” he said around a chuckle, gesturing to the pair of them, “But, look at them,” he broke into chuckles again. Professor Dumbledore’s portrait smiled, eyes twinkling in his mirth. Professor Longbottom let out a long breath and composed himself again. The he adjusted himself in his seat, bringing his clasped hands to the table top. He looked directly at Al.

“Mr. Potter, you’ll serve a week of detention…”

“With you?” he asked hopefully. The headmaster wasn’t impressed.

“With _Mr. Filch_.” Al groaned, having already encountered the school’s caretaker and found him wanting on so very many levels. “And ten points from Slytherin for fighting. You can return to your common room until dinner now.”

“Unc—” The headmaster glared, “ _Professor_ , I’d rather wait with Scorpius.”

“I would like to have a word with Mr. Malfoy alone.”

Al’s face dropped, and his eyes darted over to Scorpius in a panic before re-settling on the headmaster. He seemed frozen in whatever decision he was trying to make. And Al’s sudden anxiety about leaving Scorpius alone brought on Scorpius’ understanding of his previous vehemence. It occurred to him, quite out of nowhere, just _why_ Al was so quick and so loud in his protest to defend Scorpius to the Head Girl (his cousin) and the headmaster (his father’s best friend). His sudden pronounced anxiety provoked a sense of dread in Scorpius’ gut. Briefly, he wondered what kind of punishment their housemates had received. Briefly, he wondered if Al was getting a light sentence. Resentment bubbled up, but burst quickly with Al’s next words.

“Scorpius wouldn’t have done a thing if they hadn’t provoked him,” Al said, his tone flat and cold as he levelled a glare at his godfather. He, Rose, and Frank had had a loud discussion about all of the cousins’ godparents one night in Lupin Common. It got so confusing that they had to draw up a chart. Many of the adults had multiple godchildren, especially Mr. Potter. Professor Longbottom himself was godfather to both Al and Lysander. His wife, owner of the Leaky Cauldron and a department head at St. Mungo’s, was Al’s godmother.

“I understand that, Mr. Potter…”

“But he—!”

“That will be all, Albus,” Professor Longbottom said firmly, eyebrows drawn together in irritation. He shot another look at Scorpius, looking ready to argue again, but Scorpius quickly shook his head. The last thing they needed was Al getting into more trouble on his behalf. So with a heavy sigh and an anxiety-ridden look at his friend, Al got up and left. At the sound of the door shutting heavily behind him, Scorpius let out a long, shaky breath, and briefly shut his eyes to compose himself. His attempt didn’t last long.

“I must say, Mr. Malfoy, I am quite surprised by you,” the headmaster said, interrupting his steadying moment. Scorpius opened his eyes to see that he’d gotten up to start watering various nearby plants. For some odd reason, it annoyed Scorpius to no end.

“Why?” he snapped, “Because _my father_ preferred the company of _the right kind of people_?” Scorpius didn’t care how scathing his voice sounded. He didn’t scare that he was cheeking the headmaster. If he was going to be excessively punished, then he was going to speak how he pleased. The headmaster paused for a moment, turning to grace his pupil with a deep frown. For a moment Scorpius felt chagrined. His mother certainly hadn’t raised him to speak like that to adults.

“ _No_ ,” the headmaster said lowly, absently watering the fern in front of him, “Because everything I’ve been told indicates that you are a well-mannered and self-composed young man. Fighting with your bare hands at school isn’t exactly something I’d expected from you.”

“Oh.” Scorpius inhaled and exhaled quickly, trying to evacuate the angry, negative feelings boiling in his belly. He took in the appearance of the headmaster for the first time. Yes, he was tall, but he wasn’t exactly lanky, he filled his frame. He had average features and tidy, dark blond hair that was almost brown. He wasn’t pale like most of the professors who spent their time in the Scottish highlands; he was just a shade lighter than nut brown, probably from spending time outside in gardens and collecting specimens. But his eyes, a pale brown, were watchful and thoughtful. Sympathetic. He had a kind face, open and expressive, and his eyes betrayed his gentle spirit and generous nature. He looked like the kind of person who kept his promises, who genuinely offered his help to anyone who might need it. Professor Longbottom had the face of a kind soul. Most of Scorpius’ teachers watched him oddly, like they were waiting for a demonstration of his reputed heritage, like they were anticipating the standard Malfoy behavior. It was humiliating, but a few of them were starting to come around. They weren’t _hateful_ , per se, but he could feel their constant judgement. So he hadn’t anticipated the headmaster looking at him like that, like Scorpius was just a boy he was concerned about. Like his behavior was totally uncharacteristic.

“I’m sorry,” Scorpius said softly after a long pause. He didn’t really know what else to say. Professor Longbottom smiled warmly and took his seat again.

“That’s quite all right. I imagine this first week has been strange for you.” Scorpius nodded. Strange was putting it lightly. People treated him the polar opposite of how they treated Rose and Al. Everyone wanted to introduce themselves to the Golden Trio’s children. They wanted to be on friendly terms, to know what it was like to know so many famous people. They were in _awe_. But, like Donnie and James had done the first day, everyone recoiled from Scorpius. The hesitated, like he was carrying some kind of contagious disease. Like they had to ask their parents’ permission to see if it was “acceptable” to be decent to a Malfoy. For plenty of people, it didn’t last long. Scorpius was mild and quiet enough that he didn’t ruffle too many feathers, but a lot of the older students ignored him completely.

“Well,” the headmaster continued, “I hope that circumstances will improve. I can’t promise that they will, but I expect that the other students will soon see that your father’s reputation has no bearing on you as a person…”

“I am _not_ my father,” Scorpius gritted out. “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be the same person you knew as a boy.” He locked gazes with the headmaster, feeling the heat rise up in his cheeks. He didn’t _know_ the boy who used to walk the corridors bullying people for the fun of it. He didn’t _know_ the boy who called people nasty names and spewed jealous venom at Harry Potter and his friends. He didn’t _know_ the Death Eater that had helped Tom Riddle’s cause. The man he did know was kind and gentle, if a little superior and critical at times. The man he knew loved his family and cared about the welfare of his house elves to an obsessive degree. The man he knew taught him to be polite and respectful and to treat others with kindness. The man he knew often got quiet and sad and distant, and his mother told him that he too often dwelled in the past, feeling remorse for things he’d done. The man he knew felt acute pain for the things his son would go through. Scorpius couldn’t give a niffler’s arse about his father’s _reputation_. Instead of chastising or frowning at him, the headmaster smiled again.

“I am beginning to see that,” he said gently. Scorpius felt himself deflate, all the self-righteous anger vacating his overwrought muscles. His head was started to throb from lack of adrenaline. “But I take it that the comments regarding your father had more of an effect on you than the empty nonsense about your mother?” Scorpius nodded, eyes cutting to the legs of the desk which glinted in the low candlelight.

“Please don’t tell my father that,” he asked in a near whisper. “I—I just don’t want him to know.” It was an odd impulse, he knew, but he would rather his father think it was some trifling schoolboy rivalry than a response to insults of that nature. His father felt guilty enough as it was; Scorpius didn’t want him to be embarrassed any more than necessary. The blow to his pride would be too much.

“I will leave explanations up to you,” the headmaster offered. “Now, as for your punishment…” Scorpius flinched, waiting for the blow. “You’ll serve a week of detention alongside Mr. Potter and ten points from Slytherin for fighting.” Scorpius blinked slowly, mouth opening in surprise.

“Sir?”

The headmaster levelled a gaze at him, “I’m expecting your discretion on this matter, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Zabini seems to be under the mistaken impression that you will be served a much harsher punishment. However, he seems to forget which side I fought for during the war…” Scorpius eyes were drawn to the low glint of the Sword of Gryffindor, which rested in a glass case above the fireplace. “Bigotry of that kind is no longer tolerated or passively accepted at Hogwarts, and Mr. Zabini will spend the next month with Professor Hagrid learning that.” Scorpius was a little disappointed that Zabini, of all people, was getting to spend time with the groundskeeper, but he stifled a protest. Professor Longbottom grinned, “And trust me, from what I’ve been told by the Weasleys and Mr. Potter, detention with Hagrid is not a pleasant or clean experience.”

Scorpius shook with unexpressed laughter at his conspiratorial tone, but didn’t otherwise comment on it. At least he would spend his detention with Al. But then the headmaster sobered and cleared his throat.

“I want you to know that my door is always open to you, Scorpius,” Neville Longbottom told him gently, “Things will continue to be difficult for you, but I would prefer that you come to me when it becomes too much instead of taking it out on your classmates’ faces.”

Scorpius snorted, but sobered at the headmaster’s wry grin. “I can’t say I’m particularly sorry for what I did, sir. And I can’t promise you it won’t happen again…” he trailed off, “But I can promise to try not to let it.”

“I suppose that is the best I can ask for. Go to dinner, Mr. Malfoy, and do try to stay out of trouble.”

Scorpius nodded and was out of his seat in a flash, rushing down the steps. He wanted to find Al quickly to let him know the news. But he didn’t have to go very far to find him, as he, Donnie, and Frank were pacing the corridor just outside the gargoyle entrance. Donnie was chewing his nails while Al was pontificating on how unfair everything was. Frank was the first to notice Scorpius’ arrival. He immediately rounded on him, towering over him.

“What did he say? Do I need to go shout at him?” He grabbed Scorpius by the shoulders, “Did he say something nasty cause I’ll write mum, I don’t care what he thinks!” Donnie and Al immediately flanked Frank nodding enthusiastically, like they were ready to write their parents about it too. Scorpius felt his face get hot and tears pricked at his eyes. He had _friends_. Real friends. Like… his brain shut it down immediately. He patted Frank’s forearm to mollify him.

“It was fine. Your dad’s brilliant,” he added resolutely, making sure there was no misunderstanding. “Just a week of detention with Mr. Filch like Al. But don’t tell Zabini cause he got a whole _month_.”

This was cause for whoops and celebration. The boys clapped him on the shoulders and ruffled up his hair a little. Which Scorpius actually didn’t mind that much, he was getting kind of sick of slicking it back. The four of them made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner, Donnie complaining loudly that all the stress made him famished. Frank shushed him in favor of Al recounting the whole of their little scrape, greatly exaggerating Scorpius’ part in all of it. Scorpius blushed the whole time, laughing at Al’s exuberance and trying to placate Donnie who got annoyed every time they stopped so Al could physically reenact some part of the fight. 

The next morning, Al got a howler. Scorpius got a strongly worded letter. Al took his howler and ran it out to the Lake before his mother’s voice started screeching from the envelope. Scorpius meticulously read over his father’s words until he’d all but had them memorized. Frank and Donnie looked on sympathetically, but didn’t comment when he pulled out his spare parchment and quill to write a response.

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_I’m sorry to have upset you. I would like to say that I regret my actions, but I don’t. Tyler Zabini is a disgusting puke, and he absolutely deserved it. I only regret that Al got involved. He was just being a good friend. Professor Longbottom told me that he would keep his letter to you brief, so I expect that he didn’t tell you precisely what happened. The truth is that he said some nasty things to me and my friends, and I lost my temper. I promise to try harder in the future to control myself. This first week has been ~~stressful~~ ~~interesting~~ confusing. I’ll do better, I promise. Professor Longbottom was very understanding, much kinder than I had expected him to be. He only gave me a week of detention with Mr. Filch. Same as Al. Frank tells me that I’m in for a time of it since Mr. Filch only ever gives out the really terrible jobs for detention. If it’s any indication of his behavior, Tyler Zabini got a whole month of detention. He’s really awful, father, I don’t know how you tolerated his father. _

_Speaking of your school days, Professor Longbottom told Al and me a fascinating story about your second week of school first year. Evidently, you don’t have much ground to stand on. Dueling with Mr. Potter after curfew? I demand more details._

_Scorpius_

He received a response around lunchtime.

_Scorpius,_

_Watch your cheek, your mother is far too lenient with you. I’m glad to hear that you plan to try harder. Since this is so uncharacteristic of you, we’re willing to defer punishment to Professor Longbottom. Detention with Filch, no matter how infrequent, is always a sickening experience. Do try not to complain too much, I’m quite convinced he enjoys it._

_I’m not sorry that you don’t get along with Blaise Zabini’s son. We were friends a long time ago, and as much as it pains me, I probably wasn’t so different from Tyler. I take your disagreement as a sign that we raised you properly, though don’t say that to your mother. She is still furious with you for getting into a scrape the first week. Not your best moment._

_Unfortunately, I can guess why your week has been stressful-interesting-confusing. The adjustment alone weighs on first years, but I’m certain that my name has not made anything easier. Your pain in that regard is my biggest regret and probably a part of my penance. I can only hope that you, being exactly yourself, will improve conditions. Things can get better, and I hope you hold onto that. I’m glad that you’ve made friends. Especially since I had long feared those friends would be enemies._

_As for dueling, I’m afraid the headmaster is greatly mistaken._ I _didn’t duel anyone that night, though I expect ~~that idiot~~ Mr. Potter probably ran into a spot of trouble. Let me tell you, “gullible” doesn’t begin to describe eleven year old Harry Potter. ~~The git.~~ _

_At any rate, I do hope you’ll try to stay out of trouble. I know that you’ll be given ample opportunity. Just remember that no matter how judicious Longbottom may have been this time, there is no guarantee that will continue. There is more than one person at that school who holds a grudge against me, and I could hardly blame the headmaster for doing so. Be cleverer next time, and don’t give them a reason._

_All my love,_

_Your father_

*

Scorpius experienced the Hogwarts gossip mill firsthand in the next two days. People whispered when they saw him and Al together, they skirted him in the corridors or else acknowledged him with weighty head nods. Not everyone disapproved of someone breaking Tyler Zabini’s nose. Zabini himself kept a low profile, evidently not wanting to ruffle any feathers and add to his already long sequence of detentions. This suited Scorpius just fine because he didn’t really have anything to say to any of them. But it was pretty funny watching Frank and Donnie push between the two sets of Slytherins when they encountered each other. Frank said he was annoyed that he’d missed the action and was itching for the chance to go after Zabini and his goons. Donnie enthusiastically agreed.

Two days later, Scorpius was sitting by himself in the Great Hall deftly putting a sandwich together. Al was off in the corridor bickering with the Slytherin Quidditch Captain about trying out for the team. He was insistent that he could outfly their current seeker with his eyes closed, but Haverford wasn’t having it. Scorpius had no firsthand knowledge of Al’s ability, but Frank agreed that Al was a brilliant flyer and a damn good seeker, too. So Scorpius waited patiently since Frank and Donnie were supposed to meet them in a half hour when their class let out. He wasn’t alone for very long, however, because while he reached for tomatoes, two boys with curly blond hair sat on either side of him as James Potter and a boy with coarse reddish brown coils cropped close to his head slid into the seats across from him. Scorpius paused only a moment in his lunch-related mission before continuing easily.

“James, gentlemen,” he greeted them, focusing his attention on the food in front of him instead of their mischievous smirks. James had that manic look in his eyes that didn’t bode well for anyone he might target. Scorpius was actively trying to avoid run-ins with the older Potter. He didn’t want to upset Al.

“Hiya Malfoy,” he chirped, swiping an apple from the pile on the table. “Where’s your shadow?” Scorpius scowled but shoved down the snide comment.

“ _Al_ is talking to Haverford. Slytherin captain.”

Evidently, this was amusing to the four boys since they guffawed all at once, saying _Oh Albie_. Scorpius decided not to prompt or question them. If they had specific reasons for infiltrating the Slytherin table, then they would have to bring it up. Scorpius had promised the headmaster, after all. James worked his jaw around a smirk at Scorpius’ unimpressed power play and he folded his hands on the table in an officious looking manner.

“I heard—” He was loudly interrupted by the boy next to him clearing his throat, “ _Fred_ heard from Roxy who heard from Domi who heard from Vix…” Really? How many of them were there? “that _you_ tossed your wand and punched Tyler Zabini in the face.” Again, Scorpius didn’t prompt him, only raising his eyebrows and blinking slowly. “Well? Is that _true_?”

“Maybe.” The boys next him let out appreciative whistles.

“And you got my baby brother to toss his and jump Caleb Jorkin?”

Scorpius frowned, not impressed by their interest, “Why don’t you ask _him_?”

“ _Merlin_ , he DID do it, didn’t he? I thought Roxy was exaggerating!”

Fred shrugged, “Truth gets in the way of a good story.” Next to him James looked completely bewildered, shaking his head slightly at Scorpius. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, not liking that he was wedged between two boys so much bigger than himself, wand or no.

“Well…” James breathed, trailing off probably for dramatic effect, but then he smiled hugely, “That’s bloody _brilliant_!” He reached across the table to clap Scorpius on the shoulder. “Little Zabini is a ponce and a twat like his older brother. Hate the bastards.”

“And you _broke his nose_!” Fred said reverently, looking up like he was seeing heaven. The boys next to him nudged and jostled him playfully too.

“Not to mention riling Rose up like that,” the boy on his left laughed.

“She’s _furious_. Telling everyone what a _terrible influence_ you are!” the other added. The other two boys nodded adamantly.

 “This is Fred,” James said putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Mine and Al’s cousin. And that’s Lorcan Scamander,” he said pointing to the boy on his left, “And his twin, Lysander,” he pointed to the boy on his right. “They’re in Ravenclaw.”

“Pleasure,” they said together. Scorpius smiled at each of them in turn.

“Scorpius Malfoy,” he offered uselessly.

“We know,” they answered.

James spread his hands wide, “I have to admit, I had some concerns at first…”

“You never really know a person,” Fred added.

“But we know _a lot_ about your family,” Lorcan finished. James looked mildly exasperated at being interrupted and flapped his hands at them to quiet down.

“But anyone who tosses his wand to use his fists in a scrape is a goddamn _champ_ ,” James said very seriously.

“Definitely,” the other three intoned. Scorpius couldn’t help the small smile on his face or how his shoulders shook from his quiet chuckling at their exuberance. The three boys he didn’t know all seemed to run on the same manic energy that oozed from James. Thinking of Al, Scorpius decided it was probably a family trait.

“And I like knowing someone’s watching Al’s back. He’s wily, that one, and someone’s gotta do it.” Again, the others agreed emphatically.

“Well,” Scorpius answered slowly, picking up his sandwich, “Al’s my best mate. And Zabini’s a berk.” He found that he was less and less embarrassed about Al’s insistence that they were best friends since the fight. The words came out easily, and he found that it wasn’t so strange knowing you could count on someone so quickly. Said friend had entered the Great Hall and zeroed in on Scorpius in the middle of James and his cohorts. He shot over, standing next to Lysander and looking ready to shout.

“And what’s going on here?” he demanded hotly of his older brother, hackles obviously already raised.

“Friendship,” the four boys around him answered, taking Al aback. Scorpius smiled around a bite of his sandwich.

*

The next month or so was relatively quiet, though exciting enough for the first years. With Zabini trying to keep his nose clean and newfound allies in James and his friends, Scorpius, Al, Donnie, and Frank were coasting on a bout of untouchability. Rose wouldn’t speak to them for two weeks after the fight, which suited Scorpius just fine. He had no desire to listen to her shout about what happened. Al was distraught about it, though. Frank informed Scorpius and Donnie that silent treatment from Rose was so much worse than her shouting. If she was shouting, she wasn’t _that_ angry. You were really in trouble if she wouldn’t even look at you, much less talk to you. For that, Scorpius felt a little guilty. Al never would have been involved and on the outs with Rose if he’d just kept his cool. Fortunately, after persistent begging on Al’s part, she came around. She didn’t say much to Scorpius, but as long as Al was happy, Scorpius was happy.

Besides, he was far more interested in their lessons and exploring the castle with the boys anyway. Frank had practically grown up at Hogwarts, so he knew where everything was and showed them all the cool things he knew about. James and the others showed them around, too, letting them in on the shortcuts, secret passageways, and the house elf stairs. The four of them spent all of their free time wandering around, mostly getting lost until Frank got his bearings.

And the lessons? Scorpius was _in love_ with all the new information he was getting. Gabrielle was a treasure trove of information, and she had always supplied him with interesting reading material, but he was finally getting to learn about real magic. Frank and Donnie were desperate to try out more advanced spells, always nagging James and Fred and the Scamanders for new ideas. Fred had a lot of fun with it, giving them fake spells that occasionally set things on fire or just blew them up. Well, it was funny until Lysander got involved and offered them a spell that was supposed to give a rat wings, but actually just gave it the ability to breathe fire. The Hufflepuff Common Room was a little hectic that day, especially since Levi Clemson’s rat, Posey, had bad allergies. Al wasn’t nearly as excited about the practicums; he liked the theory much better and truly enjoyed their History lessons. Scorpius thought he was mental since Binns was such a bore, but he couldn’t deny that he’d always preferred history and theory to spellwork. He was as clever as the next person, but the dynamics of the Goblin Wars were far more interesting to him than trying to change a quill into a matchbox. So Donnie and Frank helped them with their wandwork, and Scorpius and Al helped them with the theory and background information. Donnie was the best at Transfiguration, Frank loved Charms, Scorpius did best with theory in Potions and Defence, and Al’s memory was impeccable so they used him for History and Astronomy. Scorpius was the only one of the four who actively paid attention in Muggle Studies; he found it incredibly fascinating and asked their professor for more reading material, shocking just about everyone. When he wasn’t revising his other subjects, he was pestering Al and Frank for more muggle information. They’d both spent a good deal of their time in the muggle world, since their parents liked to avoid the publicity of wizarding society. Not to mention, Rose’s grandparents, the Grangers, treated the Potters as their own grandchildren, so Al had spent a lot of time at their house. The subject of dentistry sparked a lot of questions for Scorpius. Occasionally Rose was there and offered him better and more thorough answers, but not unless Al specifically prompted her.

Rose still wasn’t fond of Scorpius. She kept telling Al and the others that he was a bad influence on them. Though, they all insisted it was the other way around. The fact was that while Scorpius had promised to not cause too much trouble, his friends had no qualms about doing so. Between the three of them, James, Fred, and the Scamanders, they were constantly up to no good. Fred was obsessed with pulling off the perfect prank, and James wasn’t too far behind him in that. The Scamander boys were pretty wily themselves, but much quieter about it. They were usually in charge of creating diversions, and “underhanded” didn’t quite cover the things they did. Frank was eager to prove that he wasn’t a little goody goody always trying keep daddy happy. Al needed somewhere to direct his enthusiasm so he didn’t lose his swotty mind over studying, and Donnie was happy enough to do whatever the others wanted to do. Scorpius liked the challenge. He liked the creativity of it. He liked toeing the line between funny and too far. He liked that they usually got away with it. And since they were all in different houses, they exchanged passwords. So while their efforts weren’t directed in the direction of a specific house, nobody was really safe. But no matter what they did, Rose always seemed to find out, and she usually blamed Scorpius, regardless of who she was shouting at. Eventually, because the others were so adamant, she had to accept that Scorpius wasn’t wholly the mastermind and operator of their schemes because he was actually the cool, sensible one. So her criticism switched over to him being culpable because he didn’t _stop them_. And that was a laugh.

Things only got worse once Zabini and company started coming at them full force again. It was open warfare; tripping, ripping bags, exploding ink, dyeing hair, stinging hexes, sabotaging potions and other assignments, stealing textbooks and clothes. It was madness. And it was mutual. Their Slytherin classmates forgot to account for Frank’s temper, however, and it caused quite the commotion when he tackled Jorkin in the quad one afternoon. The others soon joined in the brawl, attracting the attention of older students. James, Fred, and the Scamanders quickly jumped into the fray to separate the boys, but Scorpius found himself held back by none other than Dominique Weasley, Vix’s fifth year sister.

“Check yourself, babycakes,” she said gruffly, “They don’t need you in that.” Scorpius turned to look up at her. She wasn’t quite the beauty Vix was, but she was pretty nonetheless. Her hair was short and spikey, and she was tall and brawny like your average female athlete. Her eyes were a sharp blue, but her features were more like Fred’s and Rose’s than Vix’s. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“So I’m just supposed to sit back and watch every time somebody goes after them?” he demanded hotly, trying to get his arm back, “They’re my mates!”

Domi released him, but shrugged languidly as a girl with sienna brown skin and a head full of braids shot past them to cast healing and cleaning charms on the first and second year brawlers. Then she turned and started berating Fred for a second, before smirking and cuffing him upside the head. His sister, Roxy, then.

“Learn some body-bind spells, kid,” Domi advised, “Healing spells maybe. You can be useful without being in the thick of it.” She ruffled his hair and he scowled at her. “You’re more likely to get into serious trouble than they are. It’s a name thing, you know.”

He did know. That’s precisely why the headmaster had wanted him to keep his nose clean. All this really amounted to was Domi and Roxy taking a shine to the young Malfoy and teaching him some helpful spells so he could keep his distance and help clean up the mess. And it did nothing to endear him to Rose, who had decided that he was letting the others fight his battles for him. It was only partially true. Al had a hard time controlling his reactions to people being nasty to Scorpius and Donnie would do whatever Al did. People were hesitant to get into it with Frank, however, which only made him all the more eager to fight and prove himself. So whenever someone called Scorpius a “scaredy puffskein” or “Baby Death Eater,” Al would fire back at them. This naturally progressed into antagonism toward Al about the size of his family, his famous parents (particularly how fit his mum was), or some other such nonsense. And either Al would cut them down and make them start the fight, or Frank would get angry enough to throw the first punch. Al and Donnie were never far behind him. Scorpius became very accurate with his shield charms and body-binds; he’d stand off to the side and fend off anyone trying to join the fray last minute and be the look out just in case they attracted too much attention. It was a good system for getting a reputation. Scorpius was only guilty by association, which annoyed Rose to no end.

Lysander, the more cerebral of their merry band of troublemakers, thought they were mental for running around with their fists up. He was insistent that they put more effort into long term pranks instead of petty rows and scrapes. They really were getting too much attention, so Scorpius made a better effort to hold off Frank as the weeks passed, and Donnie did a better job of drawing Al’s attention away from the jeering and negative commentary. Besides, the pranks, especially when their primary adversaries were the targets, were much more gratifying. Frank grumbled that punching Zabini in his stupid face satisfied him better than hanging his underpants around the school. And thus began their octet’s mission to direct Frank Longbottom’s energies in a different direction.

Frank liked to _move_ , he liked to be active and doing things. He also had a rebellious streak and no fear of punishment, since the headmaster wasn’t likely to expel his own son. This made him a superb target for dares. They mostly came from Lysander, which meant that they were really creative and usually pretty dangerous. James, Fred, and Lorcan made bets amongst themselves and onlookers, earning them some extracurricular spending money they wouldn’t have had otherwise. It was a fairly lucrative business. Al and Donnie were his support team, finding supplies and making sure he was wearing a proper amount of padding or whatever. Scorpius, as usual, was meant to play look out, and since he was the most effective instigator, he was supposed to keep Rose off their backs. Rose didn’t exactly disapprove of rule-breaking; she indulged often enough. She snuck out after curfew, explored off-limits areas of the castle and grounds, snuck down to the kitchens, borrowed brooms from the shed to play Quidditch with her cousins and housemates. There was an endless list of things she was willing to do. But she didn’t approve of the boys’ risk-taking and pranking. She thought it was dangerous and mean and that they were all mad carrying on like they did. She lectured them a lot. So the eight of them decided it was in their best interests to distract her when they were up to something.

It wasn’t an easy task, for certain, and Scorpius typically had to enlist James’ help. No one was more annoying and antagonistic than James Potter. He knew _exactly_ how to get under Rose’s skin (though he contested that she was particularly easy to rile up as it was). Scorpius’ presence seemed to give her a baseline of irritated, and occasionally James would push her over the edge.

One time, Scorpius had James take a blank roll of parchment, hold one end at Rose’s head while Scorpius held the other end taut down at her toes. Essentially, using her as a measuring stick

“See, mate?” James laughed, “I told you it was two feet!” Her outraged shriek was enough to send them running for the quad, in the opposite direction of where Frank was doing cartwheels down the Hufflepuff table. They left portraits in their wake chuckling about red haired girls named after flowers shouting down James Potters.

Another time, Scorpius told her Flitwick wanted to see her in his office on the seventh floor while the others greased the dungeon corridor’s floors with grease so Frank could try out a muggle motorized skateboard a sixth year had snuck in. Lysander wanted to see if he could ride it in a handstand. _That_ had been interesting.

Another time, Scorpius told her there was a girl crying in the bathroom and locked her in there until Frank could successfully high five the squid.

Another time he told her that Hagrid wasn’t feeling well and she was meant to take him soup while the others scaled up onto the roof so they could see if Frank could walk on his hands and keep his balance. (He couldn’t and ended up in the hospital wing for two days with a broken arm.)

Another time, Scorpius told her he had something to show her and pretended to get lost so she wouldn’t go out onto the pitch where everyone was gathering to watch Frank do some particularly risky stunts on a stolen broom.

But by the second term of their first year, Rose was wise to his stupid deceptions, and so he used a more direct approach. Sometimes, he just picked a fight with her, knowing that she couldn’t resist the temptation to shout at him. Other times he was very blunt in his intentions.

“Frank’s doing something dangerous again,” he told her dully when he found her in the library one afternoon. In fact, Frank was currently using another stolen (or as he liked to say “temporarily misappropriated”) broom, to do some version of muggle surfing along the moving staircases. Ill-advisable in the best of circumstances, but Lysander added the complication of him dodging the Wheezes’ version of Snap Dragons being thrown by onlookers. Rose didn’t even look at him.

“He knows he’s a menace, right?”

“Oh definitely. Total menace to society. Don’t have the first clue why he carries on like that. Though, it might have something to do with his father, you know what I mean? Everyone expects him to keep his nose clean and tow the company line. It’s totally unfair, especially since he’s a rambunctious, energetic, _curious_ sort of person. So why not rebel against the system that imprisons him?”

Rose lifted her head at that, not taking the bait. “You’re here to distract me from telling a prefect, aren’t you?” Beside her Delilah giggled.

“Have I told you that you look spectacular today, Weasley? Absolutely stunning. Are you doing something different with you hair?”

“Go insult a hippogriff.”

So no, relations between Scorpius and Rose did not improve. Al would have complained except for the fact that they blatantly abused their dynamic to get away with things. Though, he could have done without their near constant bickering. Rose had a habit of being a know all. Not maliciously or as a put down, but she generally offered up information without being prompted. And Scorpius had a bad habit of correcting people. They bickered over meals, while revising, in the Lupin Common, and almost any time they were in the same room together. Everyone hoped that summer hols would give them some distance and a chance to cool off, but their dynamic carried over into second year.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Year

_Once I was eleven years old, my daddy told me,_

_Go get yourself a wife or you'll be lonely._

 

The biggest problem with Rose and Scorpius’ arguments was that there were no time or space constraints. Because Rose argued about everything, and Scorpius had very few qualms about riling her up into a fury. So Rose, Al, and Scorpius ended up in detention because Slytherin and Gryffindor second years had Potions together, and Professor Erron thought it would be a good idea to pair up Rose and Scorpius. Al and Delilah, who had also been paired up right next to them, watched them with deep sense of dread.

They argued about whose cauldron to use.

They argued about who was getting the ingredients.

They argued about how to arrange the ingredients.

Then they started arguing about preparing them.

“We need another puffer-fish eye,” Rose said, her voice raised and irritated. Al and Delilah froze, watching each other in a panic over the top of their cauldron while Delilah stiffly ground their nettles.

“Textbook says three,” Scorpius countered, mildly, “And we have three.” Rose sighed, and Al winced. The Weasley-Potters knew that sigh very well; it meant a storm was coming.

“Yes _, but_ , that one is too small. It’s been worn down. We need _another one_.”

“The textbook says three.”

“I heard you the first time!” she snapped. “ _This one_ is too small!”

“Then swap it out, because we’re not putting four eyes in,” Scorpius argued.

“I was asking you to do it! I’m trying to grind the nettles!”

“Shouting at me is not _asking_ Weasley, it’s just shouting.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re thick!”

“Miss Weasley!”

“And it’s not _my_ fault that you’re bossy!”

“Mr. _Malfoy_!”

“I am not _bossy_ , I’m trying to do the assignment!”

“And I’m not?!”

“WOULD YOU TWO SHUT YOUR BLOODY TRAPS SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO WORK!”

Freezing, both Scorpius and Rose turned to where Al was standing screeching at them. Unfortunately in his exuberance, he accidentally knocked over his and Delilah’s mortar full of nettles. The mortar went flying, sending the nettles to the floor. The mortar hit Jorkin in the shin. Yelping in pain, he jerked to favor one foot, lost his balance and knocked into Janey Morgan. She knocked into her partner who was leaning over their cauldron and so knocked it over, spilling its contents all over the floor. In her unbalance, Janey got too close to the fire and her robes lit up. The silent classroom was replaced with her screeching and Professor Erron’s booming _Augamenti!_

So Rose and Scorpius were given detention for arguing and not working together, causing a fire. Al was given a detention for shouting, cursing in class, and inadvertently starting a fire. Professor Erron decided that they would spend the evening cleaning out cauldrons since they seemed adamant to make messes. Rose was pissy with them because she was missing Quidditch practice. Scorpius had been planning to work on an essay, so was in no mood for her nastiness.

“You’re on reserves,” he said reasonably. Well, he thought it was reasonable, but she whipped around on her stool to glare at him. Al threw a glove at his head, and Scorpius yanked it from his shoulder and threw it back. “What? She _is_.”

“Can you two, I don’t know, _not_ talk to each other seeing as we’re only in this mess because of your inability _to stop being prats_?”

“Sorry, Al,” Scorpius said almost immediately. He didn’t like upsetting Al more than necessary. Like Rose, he was pretty easy to upset. Rose sighed and tossed her rag into the cauldron with a scowl on her face.

“All right, fine. I’m sorry too.” Scorpius decided not to point out that she was apologizing to Al and not to _him_ when _she_ was the one acting like she knew everything and ordering him about like a bloody house elf. He took a steadying breath, trying not to snap out at her. He completely deflated, however, when he watched her shove her tongue into the lower corner of her mouth and twisted her lips up trying to stifle a smile.

“But the look on Janey’s face when her robes caught on fire _was_ pretty funny,” she said around a laugh. Al started to shake with laughter as she mimicked Janey’s expression.

“Don’t forget the hands,” Scorpius added, feeling a smile pull at his lips. Then she did it, that stupid thing Janey did with her hands whenever she got scared (and she was scared of everything). She would put her hands to the sides of her skull, threading her fingers through her hair, and drag them down her face while she shrieked. Not really effective against spiders or small fires. Rose, being her roommate, could do a pretty decent impression.  Scorpius smiled to himself while he watched the two cousins laugh and recount what had actually happened. Al really loved pretending to be Jorkin, especially since there was such a disparity in size between them.

*

Much to their ignorance, there were some people who benefited from Scorpius and Rose’s constant need to argue.

“That goes to the third floor, Weasley,” Scorpius sighed impatiently.

“Which is lower than the fifth. _And,_ it’s a _shortcut_!” she snapped back. Scorpius sighed dragging his feet as he followed behind Al who was following Rose. She had come up to the owlery to frantically tell them that Donnie was in the hospital wing again. A fifth year Slytherin had gotten a little overzealous with his levicorpus and knocked his head against the rafters. Fred, James, and Frank were getting shouted at by Professor Brown because they’d attacked the bloke, but the Scamanders were at practice so they didn’t know yet. But _now_ since Rose was being a bossy little idiot, they were going to get eaten alive by the castle and never get to the infirmary.

“No,” he argued calmly, “that staircase always swings over to that dead end corridor on the third floor. We need to go left.”

“Yes, but…”

For the next five minutes, they bickered about which way to go while Al knocked his head against a nearby wall. They went back and forth, debating the pros and cons of every direction they should take, until they were interrupted by a loud, but prim clearing of a throat. They rounded on the interloper, ready to shout if necessary.

“Uhm, sorry to interrupt, but you’re both wrong.”

Al stopped banging his head against the wall long enough to gape at the girl standing in front of them. She had long brown hair that fell in styled waves, a short little piggish nose, and sweet brown eyes. She was taller than Rose, but shorter than Scorpius, and from the color of her robes, she was a Ravenclaw. Scorpius realized that they were actually near the Ravenclaw common room.

“Beg pardon?” Rose asked in confusion. Scorpius resisted the urge to snort, people probably never said that to her.

She smiled and pointed straight behind them, “That corridor leads to the staircase to the main stairs. That’s the fastest way down to the hospital wing.” Both Scorpius and Rose were stunned into embarrassed silence, realizing that they’d been loud enough to attract the attention of some random passerby. Al, however, was positively smug.

“Wow, thank you so much!” he said with exaggerated cheerfulness, breaking through his two friends to pat her on the shoulder. “Al Potter, and you are?”

“You—?” she broke off, “ _You’re_ Al Potter. Oh. Right. Uhm Ava. Ava Summers.”

“That’s a lovely name. Ava, have you ever been to the kitchens?” She shook her head no. Al clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Well, we,” he turned to smirk at his sheepish friends and turned back, hands clasped behind his back, “have a friend to visit in the hospital wing. As you might have guessed. But I was thinking we should stop and get him some pasties first. What do you say we show you where the kitchens are as a thank you?”  Scorpius sighed heavily trying not to get annoyed.

“Sure,” Ava said slowly, quirking her head, “I’d like that.” So Al bowed dramatically for her to lead the way and he skipped to walk next to her. Rolling their heads around their necks in defeat, Scorpius and Rose followed. Quietly.

By the time they got to the kitchens, got pasties from the elves (Ava was very impressed by all this), and got to the hospital wing, forty minutes had passed. Before they could even get in to see Donnie, they were accosted by Fred, James, and Frank who were all really eager to talk about what happened. And then Lorcan and Lysander came sprinting down the corridor in their quidditch kits, demanding explanations.

“Hey Ava?” Al asked sweetly, “Would you mind taking these in to Donnie while we sort this out? I don’t wanna upset him any more than necessary.” Rose and Scorpius shot each other exasperated looks, fake gagging. Al Potter could get anyone to agree to anything he wanted if he really tried. Something about his cute little voice, big green eyes, and his last name or some combination thereof. Ava, of course, agreed, and took the basket of pasties from him with a smile, leaving them to their squabbling.

Ava opened the infirmary door slowly, poking her head in and looking around. There weren’t many people there, just an older Ravenclaw girl and her friends, who Ava didn’t recognize. Madame Pomfrey was talking lowly to someone in a private room. But she spotted her target near the end of the row of beds by the windows. She made her way over nervously, not wanting to disrupt him if he was sleeping. He stirred when she put the basket on the bedside table.

“Lo,” he mumbled, “Who’re you?” He sounded a little disoriented, and it was kind of cute.

“Ava Summers. Uhm. Your friends. Al and all them? They asked me to bring these to you.” He sat up a little straighter, his floppy hair falling in his face, but he paused and blinked slowly and firmly. Then he promptly lay back down. Dizzy then. He groggily asked where they were.

“Outside, actually. They ran into a bunch of other people and they all wanted to know what happened. Al said he didn’t want to upset you.”

“Good ol’ Al,” he sighed and closed his eyes. Then he purposefully opened them so he could get a good look at her. “Do I know you? I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

She laughed through her nose, “Yeah, you’re Donnie MacMillan. We have Transfiguration together.”

“I—I—really?”

She outright laughed then, “Of course! Hufflepuffs have Transfig with Ravenclaw. You just always sit in front.”  Donnie blushed, realizing that she would have to have been watching him to know that. And _Merlin_ she was cute.

“Ooh, I guess that makes sense.” He paused. “Are they really all out there talking about me?”

“I think they’re just worried,” she admitted with a shrug. “What happened anyway?”

When his friends came in thirty minutes later, Ava was giggling uncontrollably at a story Donnie was telling her about the last big row Rose and Scorpius had that resulted in Frank face planting into his pudding. And because they were twelve and thirteen year olds, they had absolutely no compunction about interrupting.

*

It was a given that the eight boys all made their house teams. During their first year, Al, Scorpius, Donnie, and Frank cheered on Gryffindor and Ravenclaw more often than their own houses. It became slightly more complicated when the younger four made their own teams. James, Fred, and Scorpius were chasers. Al was a seeker (just as he predicted). The Scamanders and Donnie and Frank were beaters. And then Rose, like her father, was a keeper.  On reserve until Roxy graduated probably, but that was only a year away. Actually, the Gryffindor first string line up Rose’s second year was: Roxy, captain and keeper, Domi and Louis were beaters; Fred, James, and Aaron Tevin were chasers, and Molly was the seeker. It was very much a Weasley team. People would have complained about nepotism except that Roxy was _vicious_ when it came to Quidditch. She sat Domi out against Slytherin one time because she broke a finger and was therefore compromised and “unfit for duty.” And then, of course, some measly fourth year decided to complain loudly about being second string and Roxy glared at him silently until he left the pitch. Nobody questioned her ever again.

So Rose thought it was hilarious that the boys were all divided up amongst each other. It made for competitive arguments and bickering, but it was all fairly good natured. And whenever a group of them weren’t playing, they divided up their loyalties between the houses that were.  The first match of Rose’s second year was Slytherin against Ravenclaw. Slytherin booted their last seeker in favor of playing Al, and they needed a replacement chaser, so Scorpius was starting. The Scamanders were one of the best beater-duos since Fred and George Weasley. This left the others cheering from the Hufflepuff stands, which they deemed neutral territory. Donnie and Frank wore Slytherin green, sitting next to Fred and James in Ravenclaw blue. Rose and Delilah sat in front of the four of them wearing neutral colors (though Rose was wearing green socks and underwear in silent support of her favorite cousin). The only problem was that they could never keep straight who was supposed to be supporting who, and Rose thought it was _hilarious_.

“Up Slytherin!” Donnie and Frank hooted.

“Up Ravenclaw!” James and Fred followed.

“Nice hit, Ly!”

“Duck, Scorpius, duck!”

“What a _git_! That’s _cheating_!”

“Oi, that’s my brother you’re hittin’ at!”

“Pay attention you stupid moron! The snitch isn’t there! _Get the snitch_!”

“Nice shot, Scorpius! Up Slyther—Wait, I’m wearing blue…”

“Still a good shot.”

“Definitely.”

“Quit _staring_ at Summers, Donnie-boy, you’re _drooling_.”

“Piss off, Potter!”

“Will you look at Lorc’s swing, bloody brilliant.”

“Boooooo!”

“Claw claw motherfuckers!” _Frank_! “Apologies, professor.”

“Oh, that’s just not on.”

“Did you _see_ that? Did you see it?”

“There’s the snitch!”

_Al Potter diving for the snitch. Xander Jeffries on his tail._

“PULL UP AL!” all four boys shouted.

_Potter’s not giving it up. Jeffries is veering off. It’s gonna be close….*gasp* AND POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH! FANTASTIC DIVE, BRILLIANT BLOODY MOVE —sorry, sir, yes, no I—250-80 Slytherin!_

Regardless, all four boys sitting behind Rose were up on their feet cheering.

“That’s my brother!” James shouted as Fred cried, “That’s my cousin!” Donnie and Frank were holding each other, jumping up and down. Rose was whistling like mad as the teams flew back to the ground to celebrate. From the stands, Rose watched Al sprint at Scorpius, tackling him to the ground. Somewhat surprised, she watched Lorcan and Lysander fist bump and then run over to dog pile on Scorpius. Later, they would break down the game. Later, Scorpius would probably accuse Lorcan of being a dirty cheat until Lysander reminded him that Slytherin house were _notorious_ cheats. But right then, Rose Weasley watched a couple of Slytherins celebrate their victory with their Ravenclaw friends, no hard feelings or animosity. She watched as Scorpius clapped the Scamanders on the back, smiling brilliantly and pointing at them in what was unmistakably a compliment. Especially considering that Lysander nearly knocked Scorpius off his broom. Al jumped onto Lorcan’s back, and Lorcan ran them around the pitch for a victory lap. By the time Rose was paying attention, the four boys behind her had vacated their seats to join their friends down below.

*

 

Discussions about appropriate future matches for their son were fairly common in the Malfoy house. Draco and Astoria had very different ideas about “appropriate.” Astoria had more standards specific to the girl’s behavior. Draco was more concerned about the family. Over the holidays, Scorpius was often set between them as they volleyed potential matches and arguments back and forth. The boy himself, being twelve and a second year the first time it was officially brought up in his presence, had very few opinions to offer. He didn’t know half of the people they talked about, and furthermore he didn’t particularly care. In his _second year of school_ (he emphasized this often and loudly), he was far more preoccupied with his friends and passing his exams. Not to mention, Lorcan and Ly had written earlier that particular evening with an interesting prospect for an adventure once they were back at school. James and Al thought it would be brilliant, though Donnie had raised some interesting counterpoints. He was barely paying attention to his father’s lecture about families.

“…Now I’ve taught you about the Sacred Twenty-Eight; Gaunts, Prewetts, Fawleys, Abbotts, Yaxleys, and Flints. Not to mention the Notts.”

“Otto’s not really my type, father,” Scorpius said drolly, taking a bite of stew.

“Watch the cheek. My point is that there are the right families and the wrong families…” Scorpius’ mind wandered off again as his father continued. Donnie had been talking about Ava Summers almost nonstop since his last visit to the hospital wing. From what Lorcan said, her muggle family was very wealthy and well to-do in the muggle world. Scorpius idly wondered if that was a “right” family or if they just needed to be purebloods.

“…The Weasleys, just for example, are included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but no respectable pureblood would marry into that family….” This prompted Scorpius to start thinking about all of the Weasley variations. Vix, Domi, and Louis were technically purebloods, but they were also part Veela. Rose and her brother were Weasleys, but they were halfbloods. Fred and Roxy were pureblood Weasleys. But then there were James, Al, and Lily, both sort of purebloods and technically Weasleys, but in reality of mixed heritage and Potters.

“What I really don’t understand, dear,” Ria Malfoy interrupted, “Is how on earth a person could possibly know everyone they’re related to anymore. _Especially_ purebloods. The bloodlines are all mixed up.”

“Yes, love, but _both_ of our names are on the list, aren’t they?” She threw a piece of carrot down the table at him, making Scorpius laugh. But when his father mentioned the _list,_ Scorpius remembered looking at a very old version of it and seeing the Potters were on it. He smirked and let the silence extend out for a moment or two before commenting. 

 “Al’s little sister Lily was sorted into Slytherin, father, did I tell you?” he asked airily, focusing on his food. Scorpius liked Lily Potter, or Li Lu as her family affectionately called her, a great deal. She was bright and sharp with a wicked sense of humor and a trickster’s soul. James and Al said she was positively evil, but everyone thought she was some pretty little pixie, and so she never got caught. Unlike James, she took to Scorpius almost immediately. She trailed after him and Al asking hundreds of questions and always wanting to know what Scorpius thought. Frank teased him saying the little girl had a crush, but Al didn’t think so. He insisted that he’d _seen_ Lily with a crush on a boy, her relationship with Scorpius was more like hero worship. But very, very secretly, Scorpius had always wanted a little sister. It was strange because most boys he knew who didn’t have siblings always wanted a little brother, but not him. So he took Lily under his wing almost immediately, helping her navigate being in Slytherin with an undesirable name, understand her professors, get around school, deal with Al and James’ excessive teasing. Even before Christmas hols she had started telling everyone that Scorpius was her _favorite brother_. And Scorpius didn’t know who was more pleased by it, him or Al. Scorpius liked having the girl around, too. When she started getting too nosy about what dares Frank was trying to pull off or the inner machinations of their pranks, the other boys pawned her off on Scorpius to distract Rose. By far, she was so much more convincing and delicate in creating diversions. Rose rarely knew the difference.

“No, you did not. _Two_ children in Slytherin? Potter must be seething.”

“Actually, Lily let me see the letter he wrote. He’s very proud of them both.”

“The Potters have always been a _much_ respected family, darling,” Astoria said teasingly. Draco glared at her, stabbing at a piece of beef.

“But the Weasleys have _not_.” He looked pointedly at his son even though that statement was in direct conflict with what Scorpius knew to be the truth. The Weasleys were a part of the Sacred 28, but the war had separated them from the main herd of purebloods. His mother looked vastly amused at his vehemence, and Scorpius’ fatigue on the subject. “I tolerate Potters. I will not tolerate Weasleys.”

The image of Rose Weasley, laughing with him and Al in detention, flashed through his mind. Potters and Weasleys sort of went hand in hand, so Scorpius was having a difficult time taking his father seriously. Especially since his mother didn’t seem to be invested in the subject at all. However, seeing as he was twelve, and the subject of marriage at least a decade off, Scorpius decided against an argument.

“Of course, father.”

*

After Easter hols that year, Scorpius was well aware that he and Al were going to row. The Malfoys had spent the previous summer in France, and so there was no question of Scorpius visiting anyone or having visitors. During the holidays, both families were extremely busy coordinating schedules for family events and parties, and so the younger children were kept at home. But the fast approaching summer ahead was free and clear of those restrictions. And all through Easter break Al had been dropping hints about Scorpius visiting during summer break. In theory, Scorpius had no problem with this, he got along pretty well with most of the Weasley-Potters, so he couldn’t imagine that Al’s parents would dislike him too much. But while he was absolutely certain that his parents would like Al, there were two unresolved issues. Firstly, their parents intensely disliked each other. Scorpius’ parents certainly tried not to deny their son anything, but would the Potters be comfortable sending their son to the Malfoys? Scorpius wasn’t wholly convinced. And the second…Well, Scorpius hadn’t had a friend over in almost three years. Not since Jacob.

It was getting easier and easier to think his name, Scorpius decided as he stretched out on his four poster. Maybe he still couldn’t _say_ it, but he could think about it. So while waiting for Al to work up the nerve to confront him about his avoiding the visitation issue, Scorpius allowed himself to think about his late best friend. Jacob would have liked Hogwarts. That was a given. Even without magic, the castle was old and interesting and there were things to climb and places to hide. Jacob would have spent years exploring the castle alone. He would have liked it.

“Scorpius?” Al’s muffled voice came from the bed one over. Scorpius sighed heavily, rubbing his head deeper into the pillow.

“Yeah Al?”

“Does your dad hate my dad?”

They were silent for a long moment before Scorpius answered.

“I don’t know. I think it’s complicated. I think they used to.”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet again.

“I told my dad that if he doesn’t let me visit you this summer, I’ll run away.”

Scorpius snorted and chuckled, “You did not.”

Al hummed, “I did. I think it’s stupid, them trying to tell us what to do.

Scorpius thought about Jacob again. He thought about every time the bigger boys at the playground tried bossing them around. He thought about Jacob’s grandmother always shouting at them and calling Scorpius “strange.” He thought about how angry he’d been when his parents told him they were going to Belgium. How mad he got when Jacob ignored him and didn’t listen to him talk about it. But that’s where he stopped the memory. He squeezed his eyes shut against it.

“I’d like to see your house,” Scorpius offered quietly, staring at the back of his eyelids.

“It’s pretty wicked. Dad says a bunch of dark wizards used to live there, so they had to spend a whole month cleaning it out and taking down portraits.”

“What kind of dark wizards?”

“Dunno really. He said the house was his godfather’s. Sirius Black was his name. He was raised there, but he hated it.”

“My grandmum was a Black.”

“ _Really_? I’ll bet she knew him then. Apparently he was disinherited when he was _sixteen_ because he didn’t want to be a Death Eater.”

“Blimey, that’s rough.”

“You know, we’re probably related somehow then.”

Scorpius snorted. “Anybody with pureblood in them is related to somebody with pureblood. The Blacks were related to some Weasleys too, you know. And since Blacks mixed with Weasleys and with Malfoys, technically Malfoys are related to Weasleys too.”

“Merlin’s _balls_. How do you know all that?”

Scorpius shrugged even if Al couldn’t see it. “Dad talks about families and bloodlines a lot. He wants me to marry a girl from the right sort of family.”

“ _Marry_?” Al scoffed. Scorpius agreed that the idea was barmy. “How do you know the right sort of family anyway?”

“Some stupid old list. But he says the list isn’t really right, so I guess you’d have to ask _him_.”

“That sounds mental.”

“It really is,” Scorpius breathed, crossing his ankles. He thought about Jacob again, about how poor his family was. He thought about how Mrs. Watson always gave him food and biscuits and never commented on the Malfoys’ wealth. He thought about how much Jacob had loved Malfoy Place. Scorpius thought, for the first time since coming to Hogwarts, that Jacob would have loved Al.

“Al? Do you remember our first day here?”

“Uhhhh—? Sort of. I remember the Sorting and Feast. Why do you ask?”

He cleared his throat. “When we came back to the dorm and were getting ready for bed…you asked me if I’d had friends before.”

“Right…you said you had one, but he didn’t go here,” Al remembered. Scorpius turned his head to look at his dormmates, they were snoring on a scale of soft to obnoxious, but all very clearly asleep. He laced his fingers behind his head and took a deep steadying breath.   

“His name was Jacob. He was the only friend I’d ever had before I came here. And he died three years ago next month.” Scorpius heard Al’s small gasp, but he didn’t let it stop him from continuing. Taking the plunge, he told Al everything he remembered about Jacob, how he looked, how he walked, what his house was like. He told them about their adventures and their tormenters and their favorite places to explore. He told him every single story that he could think of, every adventure Jacob had ever planned for them, every dream Jacob had for the future.  He’d wanted to dig up old things in old places and talk about people that had died a really long time ago. He’d wanted to know something about everything and to go everywhere there was to go. It just wasn’t fair that he’d only gotten as far as their oak tree. By the end, Al was very quiet, not saying anything or asking any questions. Scorpius didn’t really know what else to say either.

“I’d like to meet him,” Al finally whispered wetly, throat hoarse for want of crying. Scorpius sniffed and nodded.

“I’ll write dad first thing tomorrow.”

By lunchtime the next day, Al had secured the first of what would be hundreds of invitations to Malfoy Place. And by the morning after that, he had his parents’ uncontestable, non-retractable approval.

*

Scorpius was invited and given permission to visit 12 Grimmauld Place that summer without hesitation. As he expected, his parents weren’t keen on denying him anything, and the power of Al and James’ combined nagging must have worn down their parents. Still, Scorpius was nervous. Al’s visit had gone remarkably well. The Malfoys thought the boy was charming and a good influence on Scorpius, who seemed to be eating better and had more energy during the course of their friendship. The boys had visited Jacob Watson’s grave, the oak tree where he died, and the playground. Scorpius had shown him every nook and cranny of Malfoy Place, including the grounds. They spent their week together running around and driving Sellie and the other elves mad. Al enlisted Mr. Malfoy’s help in building a muggle slip n’ slide, they launched a water balloon war on the house elves, and they absolutely destroyed the kitchen in their effort to make a cake which turned into an epic food fight. Ria and Draco did not envy the Potters having Scorpius and Al along with two other children and whatever strays ended up with them. Al confided in them that his father was everyone’s favorite uncle, so they usually ended up babysitting a lot of his cousins over the summer, and it was a good thing Grimmauld Place had so many bedrooms.

His father came with him through the floo, even though Scorpius insisted that he was old enough to go _alone_. Sellie said she thought the Master wanted to see Mr. Potter’s home for himself. Scorpius thought that was strange enough, but he was more worried about his father embarrassing him in front of the Potters. His complaints went unheard, and so late one Sunday afternoon, Draco and Scorpius floo’d to 12 Grimmauld Place. The entrance was a sitting room which Al told him was very heavily warded; he said it was like a rat trap. You couldn’t get into the rest of the house without a password and wards being removed. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were very anxious about their children’s safety, evidently.

Even so, the sitting room itself was impressive. It was filled with comfortable furniture that looked like it was never used. There were built-in shelves full of books, framed photographs, and plants whose vines spilled over the edges. From the walls, framed posters of Mrs. Potter in her Harpies kit winked and waved at them. There were a few framed _Prophet_ articles, too, but they were all about various members of the Weasley family. Images of Mr. Potter were exclusively in family photographs where he grinned knowingly out at them. Apparently, someone coming through set off a bell in the main house, so the Malfoys weren’t waiting for very long before a heard of pattering feet sounded.

James and Al were through the wards first. Al hung back while James all but tackled Scorpius, slinging an arm around his neck and mussing his hair. Scorpius was in the process of battling him off when Mr. Potter came through the wards with Lily, who shot from behind her father to tightly hug Scorpius.

“James!” Mr. Potter barked, “Keep your hands to yourself. Li Lu, let the poor kid breathe. Nice to finally meet you, Scorpius.” Scorpius smiled and returned the greeting as politely as he could. Turning his attention from the children to the other adult in the room, Mr. Potter briefly hesitated. Beside Scorpius, his father had his hands shoved in his pockets and he was weirdly stiff. In the silence that followed, Scorpius’ belly wrenched in anxiety, and he looked back and forth between the two men. Even James, typically oblivious, caught onto the tension and looked over at his father oddly. It felt like some twisted version of a standoff, and Scorpius wasn’t sure this had been the best of ideas. Maybe his mum should have come too; his mum always made these things easier. But then Mr. Potter snapped himself out of whatever stupor he’d fallen in. He took a deep breath.

“Malfoy,” he said tersely, reaching out a hand. Scorpius was confused by his father’s surprise at the gesture. He watched as he took his turn hesitating. After a beat, he shook Mr. Potter’s hand firmly.

“Potter.”  They spoke briefly about plans for the week, when Scorpius’ father would return to collect him, other boring adult things.  James and Al were chattering at him, talking over one another so that they started spatting. Lily had a tight grip on his hand and seemed content enough to chime in and contradict her brothers whenever necessary. Scorpius’ attention was drawn back to the details of the room. The place was so clean that its shine winked in the sunlight that poured from the big bay window which overlooked the main street. He noticed that the legs of the coffee table were carved into prancing lions. In fact, the main colors of the room were red and gold. Scorpius wondered how Al and Lily felt about that. But then the whole of his attention was drawn to the large painting over the fireplace mantle. It caught his eye because it was stagnant, so it couldn’t have been an enchanted painting like he saw at school. However, Scorpius had seen paintings and picture like it before. At the Watson’s…The subject was a couple, young and frozen in their wide, loving smiles. The woman had dark red hair that curled over her shoulders and her eyes were big and round and deep green. They were very familiar eyes. The man had messy black hair and rounded spectacles, and his smile was more of a smirk and he could have been Mr. Potter’s twin, except that there was no scar on his forehead.

“…Scorpius!” The boy whipped his head around, startled by the insistence in his father’s voice. He must have been trying to get his attention. Draco Malfoy shook his head in exasperation once he had Scorpius’ undivided attention and turned to Mr. Potter.

“Gets lost in his own head sometimes, I swear…” his father muttered in annoyance. Scorpius frowned.

“The painting doesn’t move,” he said in his own defense, pointing at the portrait. Lily tugged on his hand.

“That’s Granny and Grandad Potter.”

But Scorpius’ father made a skeptical face, “You’ve seen plenty of muggle portraits.” Scorpius watched Mr. Potter lean in surprise. The Malfoys had met the Watsons on several occasions in each other’s homes, so he knew very well what Scorpius had and had not been exposed to. Gawking at a portrait of someone’s deceased parents probably fell under Draco Malfoy’s definition of “rude.” Still, he didn’t feel particularly guilty for not paying attention.

“Sorry, sir,” he grumbled.

“This isn’t the Watson’s house, I expect you to pay attention to what you’re doing and behave yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Watsons?” Mr. Potter asked, his brows pinched together as if he were mentally running through the list of Hogwarts students and not finding the name. Draco looked at his son a little regretfully and Scorpius silently accepted his apology, but the question went unanswered.

“And I’d better not hear about any more kitchen fiascos,” Draco continued. “Three traumatized house elves is more than enough.” The boys looked at each other and cackled. He rolled his eyes even as Mr. Potter emphatically agreed. Scorpius’s father made his goodbyes, kissing Scorpius on the top of his head, and then he was gone through the floo. The Potter boys crowed and dragged Scorpius through the wards, giving Mr. Potter a half second the lift the wards as they shouted _Riddikulus!_ Lily skipped behind after them.

Grimmauld Place was three floors full of winding corridors that led to dozens of rooms. Most were small guest bedrooms or sitting rooms, but there was also a big recreation area for the kids, a full library, and a room that had hundreds of enchanted portraits hung on the walls. There was also a bathroom that housed a tub the size of a swimming pool, which James told him that Teddy said was almost exactly like the one in the Prefect bathroom at school. Lily loudly asked if Teddy was coming home for dinner. She was ignored in favor of continuing the tour of the house. Al pointed out his parents’ offices, saying they weren’t allowed in either of them, as well as the room where Scorpius would sleep. He even had his own bathroom.

Overall, Scorpius decided that he liked Grimmauld Place. It wasn’t nearly as spacious as Malfoy Place, but there were so many things to see and places to go. The rooms were all cozy and had plenty of places to sit. And the long, narrow corridors were kind of fun to run through. He noticed that unlike in his relatives’ houses, and a few rooms in his own house, the Potter’s didn’t have things they weren’t allowed to touch or be around. Scorpius’ cousin, Liam, had whole rooms in his house full of breakable stuff he wasn’t meant to go near. The floors weren’t slippery marble that made echoing sounds when you walked through, there weren’t creepy statues or mean portraits. Everything was wood and carpeting and rich, light colors. More than half of the windows were enchanted stained glass; one was currently experiencing a rain storm that had a hippogriff sheltering a horde of rabbits under a big hawthorn tree. All of the wizarding homes Scorpius had ever visited were so different from his own, and Grimmauld Place was different still. He liked it enormously.

It wasn’t long until the Potter’s house elf, Kreacher, came to fetch them for dinner. Lily tweaked the old creature’s ear affectionately and demanded to know if Teddy had arrived yet. He nodded slowly.

“Master Lupin and Miss Victoire have come through the floo.”

“Vix!” she squealed, jetting off down the stairs. Her brothers scowled and told Kreacher they would be down soon.

“Mistress asks that Masters James, Albus, and Scorpius clean themselves first.”

“Sure thing, Kreach.” The house elf blinked slowly and then vanished.

“How _old_ is he?” Scorpius asked them incredulously, shocked the ancient thing could even move. The Potter boys shrugged.

“Old as the house, probably,” Al offered. After Scorpius insisted that they do as Mrs. Potter asked and clean up, they barreled down the stairs. Their eagerness, including Lily’s, was rooted in Teddy and Vix’s scheduled absence from the Weasley-Potter Sunday brunch that morning. Teddy, home for the first time in a month, was helping Vix find a flat. As much as she loved Shell Cottage, now that she had a steady pay stub, she wanted to find her own place. Or, at least, that’s what she was telling her Aunt Ginny when the three boys stumbled through the entrance to the dining room. Lily was perched on Teddy’s lap, so Al and James ran around the table to give him passing high fives and to hug a laughing Vix.

“Oh hello, Scorpius!” Vix greeted him sweetly with a bright smile. Despite their first encounter, Vix had become fond of her cousins’ friend. Vix was even prettier than he remembered, her blonde hair loose and coiled, hanging over her shoulders.

“Hi Vix,” he said shyly, blushing at the affection in her voice and her wink.

She looked at Mrs. Potter, “You didn’t say the boys had company, Aunt Ginny.”

“Scorpius is _my_ friend too!”

“Simmer down, Li Lu,” her mother chastised as she helped Kreacher arrange things on the table. “Scorpius only just got here, and we haven’t even met properly.” Mrs. Potter was much prettier than the pictures in the papers. Her flame-red hair was cut stylishly short and she had honey brown eyes that flashed with energy and mischief. She had sharp features that reminded Scorpius of James and wide smile that often showed on Lily’s face.

“Lo, Mrs. Potter. You have a very lovely home,” he said, flushing redder. She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling a little.

“Why thank you, Scorpius!” she said sweetly, but Mr. Potter laughed.

“Look at the pair of you embarrassing the kid. You lot, sit down so Kreacher can put the food out. You know how grouchy he gets when things are out of order,” Mr. Potter said, suddenly in command of the room. Kreacher grumbled about children causing chaos and him being grouchy because of his old bones and Master Harry’s cheek, making the latter laugh raucously. Al and James bullied Scorpius into the seat next Mr. Potter, who was sitting at the head of the table, claiming that guests had to sit up there. Al and James sat next to him. Teddy sat on Mr. Potter’s left, Vix sat next to him, and Lily scrambled into the seat next to her. Mrs. Potter sat opposite of Mr. Potter. The food was served and there was a small amount of chatter as people asked for certain dishes or requested something from Kreacher. The only families Scorpius had eaten with besides his own were his relatives’ and the Watsons. The Watsons ate spread out in their living room. Jacob and Scorpius had taken their plates to the couch in front of the telly on more than one occasion. But the wizarding families? It was all very formal. Children weren’t allowed to speak unless given express permission, and even then conversation was subdued and scattered. Scorpius was relieved that the Potters ate more like the Malfoys; they talked and ate, swapping food and reaching over each other. There were more people, so it was louder and there were more conversations going on, but it felt very homey and familiar. Scorpius felt his nerves settle as Al chattered on about the different things they were going to do that week, including visiting Frank who wasn’t allowed at Grimmauld Place for a vague “adult” reason that Al and James couldn’t discern. Scorpius felt his hackles raise when he noticed that Teddy Lupin was watching him even as Mr. Potter spoke lowly to him about something. Scorpius tried to ignore him as he answered Mr. Potter who nodded, but Teddy didn’t take his eyes off him.

“So you’re Scorpius Malfoy,” he said finally, catching all of Scorpius’ attention. Scorpius tensed a little, but Al didn’t seem too bothered by it. He just nodded, feeling inordinately shy in the face of Teddy Lupin’s scrutiny. He was a tall man of average build with artfully arranged nut brown hair and eyes that flashed a familiar shade of green. He had a round face, a pointed nose, and a slight overbite.

“I’d heard you made friends with my little brothers. Also heard you’re in Slytherin with Al,” he continued. Now, Scorpius was a sensible boy and he was accustomed to the oddities of the wizarding world. But when Teddy’s pupils morphed into diamond shapes and his irises flared red, he blinked and shook his head, believing he was seeing things.

“That’s right.” Scorpius reached for his water glass to take a sip.

“And do you like your housssssse?” There was no denying the fork tongue that slipped from Teddy’s mouth. In sheer shock, Scorpius spat out his water, coughing.

“ _Teddy!_ ” all of the Potters complained simultaneously. Vix swatted at his shoulder.

“Be nice, you prat!” she snapped. But Teddy, and even Mr. Potter, was laughing. The latter sobered up, pulling off his glasses to wipe at his eyes.

“Scorpius,” he said around a chuckle, “I am so sorry, I assumed the boys would have told you. Teddy’s a metamorphagus.” Scorpius gaped at him, a little in awe. Teddy hooted in laughter.

“Everyone knows all my tricks! It’s so rare that I get an innocent test subject!” he protested even as Vix pinched him. “ _Ow_ , Vixen! Cut it out!”

From next to him, Al was scowling and glaring at his eldest brother, “Sorry,” he grumbled, “I forget who I tell sometimes. I didn’t think he’d be such a _twat_ about it!” Al snapped, raising his voice in his brother’s direction. Teddy cackled.

“Albus Severus watch your mouth or I’ll charm it shut!” his mother snapped from the other end of the table. Mr. Potter made some droll comment about his wife’s mouth and she chucked a roll at his head, nearly knocking his glasses off.

“Bloody chaser’s aim,” he grumbled, readjusting his glasses. Scorpius felt himself exhale in relief again; the Potter’s _were_ like his family then.

“Yeah, young man,” Teddy faux scolded, wagging his finger at Al, “You’re too _short_ to use that word anyway.” Scorpius felt Al move to kick out at Teddy who sniggered. “Besides, what’s a little prank between family, eh?”

Scorpius froze, brow furrowing deeply. He accepted that the Weasley-Potters, and the Potters specifically, were a weird bunch who often adopted people into their ranks.  He also knew that the Malfoys were distantly related to Lupins, Potters, _and_ Weasleys, but to call him “family” was going a little too far. When Teddy took in his confusion, he frowned deeply, the roots of his hair turning a bright red. Scorpius flinched at the sight.

“You do know that we’re cousins?” Teddy probed. Silence dropped over the table as they waited for him to answer.

“I— _no_ ,” Scorpius breathed out, feeling his eyes widen. That wasn’t…well, maybe it was, he didn’t really know. His father only ever talked about other families, not their own. Scorpius knew about his ancestors, starting with his great-grandfather and great-grandmother and working back, but he didn’t know much about his own paternal grandparents. He saw Greengrasses all the time, but Lucius and Narcissa only attended the larger family events around the holidays. His father didn’t speak to them often, nor did he speak of them. So Scorpius figured that if he _was_ related to Teddy, it was probably on his father’s side.

Teddy flapped his hand, “Fancy that,” he said sardonically, shooting a glare at Mr.Potter, “He doesn’t talk about her.”

“Teddy…” Mr. Potter started off warningly.

“I get mum, sort of. But Granny is her _sister_.”

Mr. Potter wiped his mouth with a napkin, “Ted, I doubt he ever even met your Granny, much less your mum.”

“But certainly—”

“Uh? Beg pardon,” James interrupted loudly, “But what the bloody hell are you all on about?” Al and Lily chimed in their agreement with that assessment, demanding to know what Teddy meant by them being cousins. Scorpius slumped in his chair as they talked over one another, the adults trying to get them calmed down. He stared at his food, using his fork to push it around.

“Merlin’s saggy tits, Teddy, you’re home twenty minutes and laying out a minefield!” Mrs. Potter snapped from down the table.

“I’m sorry Ginny, but don’t you agree that it’s a bit absurd that the kid doesn’t know who he’s related to? People don’t just blast relatives off their family trees anymore!” This sparked some questions from the Potter children and Vix was whispering harshly to Teddy about being a little more sensitive. Scorpius just took it all in. Next to him, Scorpius heard Mr. Potter sigh and rub a hand over his forehead. He raised his freed hand and snapped and his children immediately shut up, heads swiveling to look at him. Even Vix looked a little nervous.

“Teddy, did you ever _think_ that maybe, just maybe, that particular subject is painful for Draco and needs to be discussed with a little _tact_?” Scorpius shivered at the sudden coldness in Mr. Potter’s voice. Teddy looked somewhat chastened, but he didn’t physically flinch like Al did. Scorpius read the papers like everyone else did. He knew that Mr. Potter had a reputation for being a tough bloke in the Auror Department. He knew that a lot of people were afraid of him, and that tone proved it.

“No,” Teddy said sullenly. “But—”

Mr. Potter dropped a heavy fist to the table, “No _buts_. You don’t live under this roof anymore, but you don’t need to go out of your way to make guests uncomfortable. Do I make myself clear?”

Teddy sighed, “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Potter pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down the table at his wife, who was looking awfully sympathetic. Mr. Potter offered his hands out, “He’s going to shout at me, I just know it,” he told her insistently. She made a remorseful face, but only shrugged. With a heavy sigh, he turned to Scorpius. “I doubt your father will be very happy about you finding out this way, but since the damage is done, I’ll try to assuage your curiosity.” He sighed again. “Teddy’s mother, Nymphadora Lupin, was your father’s cousin on his mother’s side. Teddy’s grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, is your father’s aunt, your grandmother’s eldest sister.”

“Oh,” Scorpius offered. Everyone was watching him carefully, like he was going to cry or shatter into a hundred thousand pieces or something. “My father doesn’t talk about my grandparents very much.”

Mr. Potter smiled, “No, I expect he doesn’t.”

“Did—? Did something _bad_ happen?”

Mr. Potter made eye contact with his wife again briefly. “In a way. I think it would be best to ask your father about it later.” He paused. “When you go home, I mean. I wouldn’t want your stay to be cut short because my godson runs his mouth,” he finished lightly with a smile.

“Oi!” Teddy protested, but Mr. Potter didn’t look away from Scorpius.

“He’s incorrigible really. That’s what happens with first borns, you know. A big mess of mistakes.”

“I am sitting _right here_.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Potter said airily, “Speaking of, don’t you have your own house and food, why are you here eating mine?” This provoked a long bout of teasing that no one was spared from. And once again, Scorpius felt himself relax. If Mr. Potter thought it was okay to wait to speak with his father, then the whole thing couldn’t be so terrible could it? Scorpius knew his grandparents had been highly influential supporters of Tom Riddle. He knew they’d done some terrible, terrible things. He knew that his grandmother had sisters, that she was a Black and that the Blacks had been Death Eaters and supporters too. He assumed they _all_ were, with the glaring exception of Mr. Potter’s godfather, Sirius Black. And he’d only learned about him from books and Al. But Scorpius’ attention was dragged away from his own thoughts into a conversation with Al about Teddy’s job as Ollivander’s assistant. He travelled around looking for and purchasing core materials, searching for rare woods, and the like. Teddy had profound knowledge of wand lore, apparently stemming from his interest in his godfather’s history, particularly his wand’s history and how it was connected to Tom Riddle’s. Mr. Potter seemed to find their conversation bemusing, but didn’t otherwise comment.

Scorpius found that Teddy was just brilliant, besides the unearthing uncomfortable family issues bit. He was sharp and witty and dead funny. And his facial features, hair and eye colors, tended to change whenever he spoke emphatically. Mrs. Potter scolded him for not controlling it, hoping that he didn’t do that at work. Teddy assured her that he only stopped paying attention to it in private, which led to Vix recounting a dinner several months before when he’d accidentally given himself a duck’s bill in a moment of frustration. Then, of course, Mr. and Mrs. Potter followed up with a bunch of stories about baby Teddy and all the embarrassing things he’d done as a child.

“What is this? Defame Teddy Remus Lupin day?”

Mrs. Potter snorted, “Harry, remember when—?” she broke down into giggles.

“When he had the trunk for a week?” Mr. Potter accurately guessed, if Mrs. Potter’s renewed giggles were anything to go by. The others didn’t seem to know what he was talking about though. “Christmas hols his first year…”

“ _Nooo_.”

“We were having some problems controlling changes. Teddy caught cold, sneezed, and his nose morphed into an elephant’s trunk.” He waited for the laughter to abate. “And _then_ , Li Lu was just starting to talk and she couldn’t quite say elephant. So she was trying to say _Teddy Elephant_ , but she ended up saying _Tedephant_.” Both Teddy and Lily immediately started complaining, only to be drowned out by everyone’s laughter. “She saw us laughing and called him that for _years_.” 

“You know what I wanna know? Why we’re embarrassing _me_ when _Al_ is on the one who has a friend over!” Teddy carped.

“He’s my friend too!” James and Lily insisted in tandem, glaring at each other once they realized what happened. Mrs. Potter looked very entertained.

 Vix snorted.

“We have _so many_ stories about Al,” she said conspiratorially across the table to Scorpius with a wink. He took another bite of his lasagna and smirked at Al. The rest of dinner and dessert was spent engaging Scorpius with stories about the three Potter children, focusing on Al. And Scorpius was highly entertained by it all. Since he didn’t have any siblings, teasing with his parents went only in a couple of directions, and he was usually the one being teased. With the Potters, it was no holds bar, no strict loyalty, and anyone could be thrown on the chopping block. Parents ganged up on kids, kids ganged up on parents, and every variation in between.  He loved it.

Later that night after Scorpius had already climbed into bed, Al slipped into his room and fell face forward onto Scorpius’ bed with his feet still firmly on the ground.

“Can I help you?” Scorpius asked sarcastically, not at all impressed with the display.

“I hate my family.”

“I think they’re great.”

“Because they were making fun of me.”

“Well, it was _funny_.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t. And you’re not that upset.” He kicked gently at his head. “So what’s up?” Al only ever made dramatic entrances and laid on Scorpius’ bed when he was upset about something.

“Teddy.”

Scorpius sighed, sitting up and leaning over his knees, “What about him?”

“He’s your cousin.”

“Apparently.”

“And you didn’t know.”

“Nope.”

Al squirmed so that he was fully on the bed, rolled so he was flat on his back, and dropped his head to look at Scorpius.

“You don’t find that weird?”

Scorpius shrugged. “Dad’s told me a load of times that there are some things about our family history that he doesn’t want me to know until I’m older. Or at all. Maybe that’s one of ‘em. _Your_ dad probably hasn’t told you everything.”

“No,” Al breathed, “But what could’ve happened that your dad wouldn’t tell you about his own aunt?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about them, really. I know Grandma Malfoy had sisters, but I thought they were either dead or…like her.” 

“Bad?”

Scorpius shrugged. Al sighed.

“Aunt Dromeda is awesome though. She’s so nice. She and Teddy moved in here when my parents did so they could help her take care of him. She’s at the Burrow for the summer cause they teach a bunch of kids too young for Hogwarts. She’s always got biscuits and has the best stories…”

“She sounds brilliant,” Scorpius agreed.

“She _is_. Maybe you should meet her.”

Scorpius inhaled deeply. “Maybe.” He exhaled. “But I wanna talk to my dad about it first.”

“Okay,” Al agreed easily. They fell asleep talking about their plans again.

*

The rest of Scorpius’ week with the Potters was not nearly so fraught with familial tension. The first day, Scorpius and the Potters ran about the house and played in the Big Tub, as they called it. Then the Granger-Weasleys came over the day after that. Lily and Hugo disappeared for most of the day to work on a “secret project,” but Mr. and Mrs. Potter got to experience firsthand how Scorpius and Rose bickered. Mrs. Potter thought it was hilarious, saying that it reminded her of Ron and Hermione. She only laughed harder when Rose looked downright offended by that statement and started shouting that they _did not_. James grinned at Scorpius and let him in on the joke.

“Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione? Rose’s _parents_? They were best friends at school.”

Scorpius made a face.  The adults laughed at him.

The day after that, they went over to the Longbottom’s. It was a little strange, going to the headmaster’s house above the Leaky Cauldron, but it didn’t seem to bother James, Lily, or Al at all. Frank was ecstatic to have people over. He showed them every inch of the flat and specifically which plants _not_ to touch cause of poison or whatever. Lily and Frank’s little sister, Allie, ran off to play on their own while the boys entertained themselves with too much butterbeer and gobstones. According to Frank, Donnie had written to say that he would be back in England in two days. Fred and his family were in Greece visiting his mum’s family, though, and the Scamanders were in Brazil with their parents looking for something or another. With Mrs. Longbottom’s permission, they were allowed to run up and down the street in front of the Leaky. They bought candies at the shop across the street and threw a quaffle around, running off and laughing whenever someone got angry at their antics. Then they threw snap dragons at people’s feet, making them jump and screech. They only got caught once and had to make a break for it and split up. They met up at Fortescue’s and James bought them ice cream. There was only one strange moment when a man with a camera kept following them around and trying to talk to them. James snapped at him that if he didn’t leave them alone, he’d have his Aunt Hermione bury him in lawsuits. When that wasn’t enough, Frank stomped on his foot so hard he dropped his camera and it broke. They made a run for it. Out of breath, Scorpius asked them what that was all about. It was Frank who answered.

“These two berks are worth a fortune to the press.”

James scowled. “We’re the _Chosen One’s_ kids. They think it’s interesting or whatever.”

“Somebody got 600 galleons for a baby picture of James.”

“ _Prats_.”

“Well,” Frank said, hands on his hips, “S’prolly more interesting with Scorpius here, hanging around. _Prophet_ is gonna have a field day.”

“Really?” he asked incredulously. He couldn’t understand why anybody would be interested in him.

“Uh, yeah?” James said like he was the dumbest person alive. He ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “Your family’s super old and loaded. Nobody knows anything about you even though they know a lot about your dad. Your dad and our dad hated each other, and now you’re in Slytherin with Al and we’re hanging about Diagon together. Ever heard of Rita Skeeter?”

“No?”

“Good. You don’t want to.”

They ate dinner with the Longbottoms and spent the night there, camped out in the living room. Scorpius suggested they make a blanket fort, which with Al and James’ bickering took them two hours to build. Then James made blue lights to hang from the ceiling while they stayed up and told the scariest stories they knew. Scorpius won because, as James said, he was a swot who read too many books and knew too many things. Frank laughed and called him a sore loser. The truth was Scorpius read a lot of history books, and sometimes history was scarier than legends about dementors and boggarts and lethifolds. Late that night, Allie and Lily invaded. Frank protested, but Al jumped him to make him be quiet so they didn’t get in trouble. Surprisingly, James didn’t seem to mind and even offered Allie the good pillow. Scorpius thought it was weird since he’d wrestled Frank for it, but he didn’t say anything about it.

The next day they were back at Grimmauld Place and the Potters promised that they would get dinner with the Longbottoms when the MacMillans got back into town. It was Teddy’s day off, so he was in charge of corralling the kids; Rose and Hugo came back alone with Domi and Louis, who said it was boring at home, and Molly and Lucy who didn’t like being home alone all of the time. They played quidditch the garden, which was hidden from muggle eyes and magically enlarged to accommodate a game. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Potter wandered out eventually and things really started to get competitive because Mr. Potter said he could catch the snitch before Mrs. Potter scored five goals against Teddy, who everyone said could have gone pro if he wanted to. Mr. Potter won, but only by a split second. Domi declared it a tie so the rest of them could actually keep playing.

The rest of the week was spent in the blissful chaos of Potter family life. They did meet up with the MacMillans and the Longbottoms in Diagon, and it turned into a rather large affair. Scorpius was overwhelmed with the sheer amount of people trying to stay together as a group. He was used to being around a lot of children at Hogwarts of course, but that was blending into the crowd not being the crowd. All in all, it was a great week and Mr. and Mrs. Potter said he was welcome back any time he liked.

Mr. Potter apparently had written to his father that he would bring Scorpius through the floo because he wasn’t certain of their schedule. Scorpius found this a little suspicious because they were at the house all day, but he didn’t say anything. After he said his goodbyes to Lily and the boys, Mr. Potter led him to the front sitting room, but Scorpius hesitated before going to the floo. Mr. Potter spun on his heel, looking to see where he went and at the look on his face, crouched down so they were eye level.

“What’s up, kid?” he asked lightly, face relaxed.

“Uhm—” Scorpius broke off and took a moment to collect his thoughts. He looked up at the portrait of the Potters above the mantle, people who had such vibrant personality in their faces that they might have been enchanted anyway. “You said that my father would shout at you for telling me about Teddy being my cousin…”

Mr. Potter offered him a halfhearted smile and patted him on the shoulder, “Which is true, but it’s also true that it wouldn’t take much for your father to shout at me.”

“Really?” he asked pathetically. Mr. Potter chuckled quietly.

“I think your father and I felt the same way you and Tyler Zabini feel about each other.”

Scorpius wrinkled his nose. “Zabini is a bigoted berk.”

Mr. Potter barked a laugh, “And he probably thinks you’re a self-righteous prick.” Scorpius recoiled at his foul words, but he did recall Zabini saying something to that effect at some point in time. Mr. Potter stood and put a hand back on his shoulder. “But I take it you’re more concerned about how your father will respond to you asking him about Teddy’s family?” Scorpius nodded. Mr. Potter looked over him at something Scorpius couldn’t discern. “Well, let me put it to you this way. Your dad brought you here on Sunday and shook my hand. He still doesn’t like me, Scorpius, and I can’t say that I like him. But he shook my hand and let you spend time in my house because he knows how important Al is to you and he wants you to be happy.” Scorpius felt the furrow between his brows. “He loves you more than anything in this world, Scorpius, and talking about family with you may be tough for him, but he’s not going to be angry with _you_ about it. He’s angry at himself, at _them_. Not you.” Scorpius let out a long, unsteady breath.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. You ready?” Scorpius nodded again, and Mr. Potter grabbed a handful of powder from the jar on the mantle, ushered Scorpius into the floo, and announced their destination. The Malfoys didn’t have a “sitting room” per se. It was more like a hall. But there was a big cushy couch on a Persian rug spread out in front of the floo. There was a chaise and a tea cart and a short book shelf. As Mrs. Malfoy was at work, Mr. Malfoy was the only one waiting for their son to get home. He was spread out on the sofa reading the newspaper. As Scorpius came through the floo, he saw the smile on his father’s face at his arrival and inexplicably all of his anxiety melted away. He dropped his bag to the ground as his father got up to hug him and shake Mr. Potter’s hand. They exchanged pleasantries, but Scorpius wasn’t really listening. He kept his arms around his father’s waist, his head against his stomach. He felt his father’s hand on his head, fingers in his hair as his torso vibrated from speaking. When he thought they were finished talking, Scorpius turned without prompting and held out his hand to Mr. Potter.

“Thank you for having me to your home, I had a lovely time.”

Mr. Potter smiled, his eyes twinkling, “You are very welcome, Scorpius.” He patted his shoulder once more before he went back through the floo. Scorpius turned back around to look up at his father, who regarded him thoughtfully, waiting for him to speak. Scorpius took a steadying breath.

“I’d—I’d like you to tell me about Andromeda Tonks.”

Draco Malfoy looked up, throat tightening as he brought his hand up to the back of his son’s head. Scorpius watched him, wide eyed and nervous, as he pinched his lips together and struggled to respond.

“Let’s…” He looked back down at Scorpius, hand dragging down to cup the nape of his neck, “How about we go ask Sellie for some hot chocolate and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know?”

Scorpius grinned and nodded eagerly, and he followed his father to the kitchens.    


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third Year

_Pushing each other to the limits, we were learning quicker_

 

It was not uncommon for Rose and James to fight. Everyone knew that if you wanted to get under Rose’s skin, you sent in James. He had an uncanny ability to infuriate her quickly and without remorse. He teased her, mostly because she was embarrassed easily and was often clumsy or mixed her words up. He liked to make her feel stupid and silly just because he liked to antagonize people. So when word spread through Lupin Common one Friday afternoon in Scorpius’ third year that the pair of them were having a go at each other in the Gryffindor Common Room, no one even blinked. Al and Scorpius did their due diligence and went up to see what was going on. But by the time they got there, Rose was running up into the girl’s dorm and James flopped onto the couch grumbling about annoying bints. The two Slytherins dragged him off to the kitchens and forgot all about it.

The next day, Scorpius was lounging in the Slytherin Common Room near the stained glass windows that looked into the lake. He liked sitting there occasionally waving at passing merpeople because it reminded him of his window at home. His peaceful afternoon was thoroughly disrupted when Al came barreling through the door. Unlike his brother, Al had his father’s dark black hair that was somehow always combed and tidy. James was notorious for accidentally breaking people’s combs and brushes, so no one ever lent him one. Scorpius understood his pain, having his mother’s curly hair himself, but the Sleekeazy had always worked for him. Which was absolutely ironic considering that James’ great-grandfather had invented the shite. But in that moment, Scorpius’ best friend and housemate looked a little crazed, his hair messed probably from being fluffed and pulled in frustration.

“Have you seen Rose anywhere?”

Scorpius frowned, “No. Not since yesterday when you made her help us with Transfig.” Scorpius didn’t interact with Rose Weasley if he didn’t have to. It was just a basic rule of thumb. They always ended up in a row. He took himself too seriously and she was far too easy to provoke. Al preferred peace when he spent time with the both of them, but it was never very easy. However, Rose _was_ the top of their class in Transfiguration and not even Scorpius was too proud to turn down her assistance. Once they’d calmed James down, the both of them realized they were in a bind on their Transfiguration essays, so they went looking for Rose’s help. The previous afternoon had been one of his more pleasant encounters with Rose, since they actually dug into the theory of the spells they were working on. Rose had unfailing intuition in the practice and execution of the spells, while Scorpius was more interested in how they functioned and came about. The result was neutral territory that they had both enjoyed. Scorpius also realized that her conversation with James had upset her more than usual, so he _tried_ to be nice. It was the most headway he’d made with his friend’s cousin in the three years they’d known each other. She’d actually said that something _he_ said was _interesting_. Scorpius truly believed everything he said was interesting, but it was much more satisfying to hear it from someone who hated him. He’d actually been considering asking her for help with Defence (again, she was top of the class and in competition with Frank for the spot) before Al had come in. He thought that maybe if they had some common ground, they might get along better for Al’s sake. Regardless, his answer must not have been what Al was looking for.

Al threw his hands up in the air, “She’s gone!” he shouted. “We can’t find her anywhere! Delilah is _frantic_ and I don’t think I’ve ever seen James so worried in his prattish life!” In frustration he swatted out at a pile of books, sending them to floor.

“Whoa, dial it back, troll-man. Have you checked—?”

“Of course we have! Six times at least! But she’s not showing up anywhere. The boys are checking the Room of Requirement now.”

“Well,” Scorpius said standing up, “Let’s go. I’m sure she’s probably hiding out there anyway. She took that row with James yesterday pretty hard…”

The two Slytherins made their way up to the seventh floor, with Al recounting every place he’d already checked despite what the Marauder’s Map obviously indicated. Scorpius had to hand it to the Potters, they had incredibly useful belongings. James had brought them the very detailed (and very advanced) map of the school and grounds at the beginning of the year, claiming he’d stolen it from his father’s office. Just what such a respectable Auror and the savior of the wizarding world was doing with a contraband map of Hogwarts was beyond Scorpius. All he knew was that it was dead handy for executing pranks and staying out of people’s way. The Room was already occupied by their six best friends. At present, the Scamanders, Frank, and Donnie were sitting forlornly, smushed together on a long black sofa as Fred and James shouted at each other.

“Whoa, _time out_!” Scorpius shouted over the noise, getting all of their attention when he whistled. “What the bloody fuck is going on?”

“Rose is missing,” Fred supplied angrily. “And _James_ was fighting with her yesterday. He obviously said something nasty enough that she’s done something _stupid_.”

“I only said—!”  

“We need to tell my dad,” Frank mumbled reluctantly. Scorpius looked at him in sympathy. It was rotten luck to have a dad for a professor, much less the sodding headmaster of your school. Frank avoided getting his father involved at all costs, no matter how beneficial it might have been. Professors had quickly learned to resolve issues with Frank Longbottom one on one, without discussions with his father unless they wanted a very unruly Frank on their hands. So the fact that he was suggesting it made Scorpius pause.

“He’s right. If we can’t find her on the Map, and she’s not here,” Lysander reasoned, “Then we’re out of our depth. Adults need to know.”

“Agreed,” Lorcan said with a nod. James looked around at them and realized he was outnumbered. They decided to send Al, James, Fred, and Frank, who the headmaster would be more inclined to take seriously. Unfortunately, their plan met a bump in the road. Upon hearing this news, Professor Longbottom ordered a top to bottom search of the whole castle, much the boys’ dismay. Students were ordered back to their respective dormitories, to await further instructions and if anyone knew the whereabouts of Rose Weasley, they were to come forward immediately. Walking slowly to where they would have to separate, the four boys met with Scorpius, Donnie, and the Scamanders near the Great Hall. Approaching at a much faster pace, they came together with panicked expressions and furious whispers.

“She’s got to be in the Forest,” James informed them morosely, kicking at the ground. “She was being so _annoying_ and we got into that stupid fight and I told her she wasn’t brave enough to go in alone and now she’s done it and she could be dead and they’re all looking _inside_ …” he was ranting too quickly for the rest of them to keep up. But the others shot each other looks, understanding what had probably happened. And it was James’ fault. “And if she’s not, we’re both going to get into _so much trouble_. They were actually talking about transferring her to Beauxbatons! Just because Aunt Fleur can get her in! Can you imagine Ro in a place like that?” James continued babbling about all the repercussions he was going to face if he got in trouble with the school again, but all Scorpius could think was that Rose would do exceedingly well in a school like Beauxbatons. His cousins said it was competitive and well-tailored to groom young women, not to mention the uniform would—

“Shut it, James,” Lorcan snapped, “We need to think!”

“They’re wasting time. The map knows every place in the school and on the grounds except for the Room of Requirement! And we already looked there!”

“We have to tell them.”

“We can’t, not without telling them about the map.”

“Rose is more important than the goddamn map, James!” Bickering broke out among their ranks.

“I have an idea…” Scorpius said, but he was largely ignored. That happened sometimes when Potters and Weasleys were in the room together. He snapped fingers in their faces, elbowing Donnie in the stomach to get him to stop barking at Fred. “I have a plan, damn it!”

“No Scorpius,” Al shot back firmly, arms folding across his chest, and Scorpius scowled. Al had this odd tendency to know what Scorpius was thinking most of the time. They rode a very similar wave length, predicting what the other would do and comfortably acting accordingly.

“It’s the best way.”

“What?”

“He wants to take the fall. Say he made Rose go in the Forest or something.”

“It’s a good idea.”

“Fred!”

“Everybody knows Rose is an idiot about dares. If he just says he dared her he won’t get in trouble.”

“You don't know that!”

“Scor keeps his nose clean,” Lysander offered reasonably, “Staff all likes him. No way the headmaster comes down hard on him. But James?”

“Uncle Nev said one more incident and I’m off quidditch. Do you know what Dad will do to me? Scorpius’ parents think he shits sunshine! They’ll tell him no reading before bed or something!” Which wasn’t entirely untrue, Scorpius thought, and for him that was actually a punishment.

“This is ridiculous!”

“He’s right Al. Best thing for everyone,” Scorpius insisted. They were wasting time.

“Not for you.”

“Well you’ll just owe me seven thousand favors.”

Scorpius convinced them all to agree that he needed to talk to Professor Longbottom alone. Al didn’t look sold on the idea, and he eyed his best friend suspiciously, but kept quiet. The others weren’t exactly eager for it either; they wanted to be there to back up Scorpius, but he wasn’t having it. It would look odd if the others came with him, especially since it was supposed to have been a private argument between him and Rose. They all scowled, but agreed, and went off to their respective houses. Truthfully, Scorpius couldn’t say why he needed to do this alone. It was just…the others were _so great_ at everything. They were popular and well-liked without trying. They had the right names and the right friends. Success and acknowledgement came naturally to them, and every so often, Scorpius felt like he existed on their fringes. It didn’t help at all that he was actively held back from some of their schemes and not allowed to defend them _at all._ Sometimes he felt that if Al ditched him, the rest would too. That they just thought of him as _Al’s_ _friend_ , not Scorpius, not their friend. With an internal, beleaguered sigh, he thought that maybe he understood all too well why Rose would feel the need to prove herself to someone so effortlessly talented like James.

Scorpius sprinted off and found Professor Longbottom organizing professors, prefects, and house elves in the Great Hall. He recognized a couple of Rose’s friends and roommates, and very distraught Delilah Finnigan, sitting at a table with glassy and red-rimmed eyes. They must have been really worried. He ignored this in favor of tapping on the headmaster’s shoulder.

“Mr. Malfoy, you should be in your dormitory.”

“I know professor, but it’s about Rose,” he told him, a little out of breath, “She’s in the Forest, sir, I just know it.”

His brows shot straight up, “And how would you know a thing like that?”

“It was stupid dare, sir,” Scorpius lied evenly, shaking his head in feigned regret, “I should never have said it, but I _know_ that’s where she’s gone.”  Professor Longbottom whirled around, shouting at Professor Brown and some of the others to gather everyone on the grounds to prepare to search the forest. Then he told an elf to floo the Weasleys and another to floo the Aurors, they would need to formulate a plan. Scorpius, standing riveted in shock at the headmaster’s sudden command of authority, felt his throat tighten. Formulate a plan?

“But sir—!”

“Mr. Malfoy, we will have a discussion about your conduct later, but right now you need to return to your house.”

“But she’s been out there all day! Maybe longer! You can’t just sit and wait for more people!” he protested loudly, enraged. Professor Longbottom, very much unlike his own father, softened instead of flared up at Scorpius’ imperious and indignant tone.

“Scorpius, the Forest is vast and very dark. There are undocumented creatures out there, not to mention old enchantments that try to lure and trick you. We cannot risk more lives by being hasty.”

“But—!”

He put a hand on Scorpius’ shoulder, “I know she’s your friend. But this is not up for discussion. Go back to your house with the other students.” He turned on his heel and started ushering everyone around. He sent the Gryffindor girls back to their rooms and asked the house elves to go to Hogsmeade and request help from anyone they could find. As a result, Scorpius was duly ignored. Everyone was so busy worrying and preparing that they didn’t notice him slipping toward the main entrance and out the door.

Waiting was _rubbish_ , he’d decided. Unfortunately, there was no way to get word to the lads to come with or to put together much of a plan. He had one small idea, however, and it was a good one. Running, he made his way to the patch of Forest just behind Hagrid’s hut, snatching a ferret from the fence as he went along. Hagrid had introduced the third years to Buckbeak the hippogriff a few months before Christmas hols. Unlike his father (unbeknownst to Scorpius), Scorpius and Buckbeak took to each other very quickly. He’d even gotten up on his back. Hagrid had also informed them that after escaping execution, Buckbeak and the infamous Sirius Black had hidden out in the Forest for a good long while before moving on. And, after Sirius Black’s death during the war, Buckbeak had returned to live in the Forest, preferring the dark woods to the clearer pastures near Hagrid’s hut. No one knew the Forest better than Buckbeak, so if anyone could help find Rose, it was him. He approached the creature with all the respect owed to his stature and ego. Buckbeak almost immediately bowed back, allowing Scorpius to move forward.

“Hey there, love,” Scorpius cooed, “You remember me, don’t you? Clever boy you are. I really need your help.” Buckbeak tilted his head, his big yellow eye staring Scorpius down. “Yeah, you’re the smartest hippogriff I know, and you know this Forest better than anyone, right?” He blinked slowly. “That’s what I thought,” Scorpius told him matter-of-factly. “Well my friend Rose, you know Rose, don’t you? She feeds you apples and helps clean your feathers?” Rose had taken a real shine to Buckbeak, claiming that he was just a big, silly cat who needed love and attention. After her weekly visit with Hagrid, she would spend time fussing over the old thing. “Yeah,” Scorpius sighed as Buckbeak’s eyes widened into softness, “Yeah, you know her. Well, she’s in trouble. She’s lost in the Forest and I need you to help me find her.” There was a beat of hesitation, and then Buckbeak was kneeling to the ground so that Scorpius could clamber onto his back.

Together, they shot off through the Forest, Buckbeak keeping a brisk pace and his nose in the air, and Scorpius calling out her name. If he got caught in his search, then he would suffer the consequences. At least he was _doing_ something. Mentally he laughed at himself. How _Gryffindor_ of him. Scorpius had only been in the Forest once during his first year, and he hadn’t gone very deep. Some older Slytherin boys had dared him and Al to go in, and neither one of their egos could have suffered the heavy blow of being labelled a coward so early on. They went in about twenty feet into the trees before they had heard a blaring of a horn and a bright flash of lights and ran right back out. Scorpius was still convinced that the other boys had something to do with it, but Al wasn’t convinced.

“There’s a lot of weird shite in there,” he’d told Scorpius very knowledgeably. “My dad’s told me things.” What those “things” were, he never specifically told Scorpius. Though, when they’d told James and the others, James had laughed riotously running off to go write about it to their father. Rose had a suspiciously wry look on her face too, but refused to say anything more. Whatever the joke was, Scorpius didn’t get it. Still, that was the last time he’d been in there, and it was much darker than he remembered. It was almost like the trees were purposefully blocking the sunlight from getting in. It smelled damp and a little like Sulphur, and Scorpius occasionally had to breathe deeply into the scruff of Buckbeak’s neck so he didn’t pass out.

After an hour or so, maybe longer, he couldn’t tell because he didn’t have his watch and there was no sun visible, they still hadn’t found Rose. Buckbeak slowed to a walk and Scorpius decided to slide off his back into the muck of the Forest floor in order to stretch his legs.

“I don’t know about you mate,” Scorpius said, taking in his surroundings from his new height, “But this places gives me the jeebies.” Buckbeak huffed, fanning out his wings in a frustrated movement. “See, I thought so.” They walked along quietly for some time, Scorpius startling at every odd sound. He’d jerk around, hand sinking into Buckbeak’s thick feathers before the hippogriff grunted and ushered him along. Once, Scorpius tripped over a tree root he hadn’t noticed, landing on his hands and knees in the wet mud. His cry of pain was strangled by the tightening of something around his left ankle. He flopped around and tried to pull away, barely registering that it was a thick, black vine that had grabbed hold of him, when Buckbeak reared up and slashed the binding with a talon and a sharp squawk.  Whatever it was retreated back to its hiding place. Dazed, Scorpius looked up at a concerned-seeming Buckbeak.

“Thanks,” he panted out, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. “Maybe I should get back on you now?” With another huff, the hippogriff bent to assist him, and they continued on as before. His body was starting to feel heavy and his mind was fuzzy; it was difficult to focus on one thought in particular. But the more time Scorpius spent in the Forest, the more he realized that beneath the thick haze trying to distract and kill you, it really _was_ just a Forest. And it was kind of pretty, in its own, gloomy way. The trees were old and rooted deep in the soil, there was a green sheen to everything he saw, and it was obviously very much alive. There were bird and bug sounds, the trickling of water echoed through; there were giant boulders covered in spindly gray-green moss. And when you weren’t terrified for your life, it was all kind of peaceful.

Their peace wasn’t long for this world, though. Because not long after Scorpius’ encounter with the grabby vine, the ground started to shake. Buckbeak reared up, in excitement or panic, Scorpius didn’t know, but he had to hold on for dear life and duck his head down when the hippogriff bolted straight ahead. Squeezing his eyes shut against the wind, Scorpius lost all sense of where they were going and where they’d come from. Buckbeak, however, seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go, and as he did, the shaking grew louder. Scorpius could hear loud crashing sounds, like branches breaking, but louder. The ground rumbled like it was about to open up and swallow them whole. Buckbeak was relentlessly pushing forward though, making Scorpius’ stomach roll and roil in protest. That is, until he reached the edge of a small clearing and reared up again, squawking and cawing like mad. Scorpius shouted out in surprise, trying to get a better grip on his withers, but lost all sense of his person and muscle control at the sight greeting him. A giant. He was the height of five men with an ugly face and tattered trousers that encircled his legs which were the size of ancient oak trees. Scorpius nearly soiled himself.

“Bucky! Bucky!” the giant laughed dumbly, clapping his big hands together. “Found Ermy. Go get Hagger.” Scorpius didn’t have any clue what it was trying to say, but clearly he knew Buckbeak, so that was a plus. It dropped its head down to its right shoulder when it noticed Scorpius sitting on Buckbeak’s back. “Friend?” he asked dumbly, eyes blinking slowly at Scorpius. “Hagger friend?” _Hagger_? What was a Hagger. Hagrid, maybe?

“Do you mean Hagrid?”

“Hagger!” the giant clapped and pointed, “Hagger friend?”

In a fit, Scorpius reacted, “Yes! Friend! My name is Scorpius,” he offered, trying not to sound terrified, “What’s yours?”

“Me Grawp,” he said, standing straight and thumping its chest. But then he tossed its big finger around the direction that it came. “Is Her-mee.”

“Her ninny? No, I’m Scor-pi-us.”

“Scopus,” he repeated back, pointing at him, but then he threw his finger back the other way again. “Is Hermy.”

“Her me?”

“Hermy. Come. Is Hermy.”

Before Scorpius could ask any more questions, the giant, Grawp, turned and ambled back the way he’d come, grumbling for Buckbeak to follow him. Without Scorpius’ permission, Buckbeak did so at a canter, to keep up with him. As they passed into the clearing, the temperature dropped and Scorpius shivered. His heart started to beat faster and his head, an odd place on his forehead as a matter of fact, started to throb in pain. His chest felt tight, his throat dried, and he could have sworn he heard a woman screaming. He tried to shake it off, to sit up, to see ahead and get a sense of where they were, when he spotted a flash of red just up ahead, sprawled out next to a rather odd looking boulder that had been scorched.

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling at Buckbeak’s feathers, “There’s Rose!” He didn’t pay attention to Buckbeak’s slowing or the fact that Grawp was standing off to the side, shuffling from foot to foot and wringing his hands nervously. Scorpius barely registered his moans of _Hermy, Hermy ‘urt_. He sprinted out to where he could see her hair, to realize that she was covered up to her neck by an enormous brown waistcoat covered in patches. Grawp must have found her and covered her before he went to get help. Clever giant. Feeling dizzy, he clambered over it, his hands reaching for her face and finding it cold.

“Rose!” he cried out, feeling the desperation rise up. He noticed that there was a gash in her head that was covered in blood. He maneuvered around, looking to see how deep it was. Shallow, but there was a lot of blood. He knew after one nasty fight with a fourth year Ravenclaw that head wounds tended to bleed a lot even when they weren’t deep. So he tried not to worry and did a cursory check for other wounds. He shoved the waistcoat off of her and noticed that her calf looked red and swollen. Not good. But there weren’t any other obvious injuries. Not that it meant anything. She was cold and completely still, so he let his fingertips drift down to her neck, searching for her pulse. It was low and slow, sluggish, but it was there. He could have fainted in relief. Shaking off his own feelings of sluggishness, he called out to the giant for help.

 “Grawp, can you put her on Buckbeak?” Grawp ambled forward, a hand reaching out to scoop up the girl, like she was no heavier than a doll.  Buckbeak shuffled around to settle her in, keeping her braced with his wings while he waited for Scorpius. The boy inhaled deeply, bending over to collect himself and stretch before getting back on Buckbeak. Grawp was watching him with big, sad eyes, a fat tear already rolling down his cheek.

“She’s going to be okay, Grawp, I’ll make sure of it.” The giant nodded dumbly and looked mournfully at Rose’s lifeless form. “Can you find your way back home Grawp?”

“Yes Scopus.”

“Good. We’re going to fly back to the castle. You did a very good job Grawp.” A slow, stupid smile spread over his ugly face, making his nose and eyes scrunch up like he was about to sneeze.

“Good job Grawp good.”

“Yes very good.”

“Hermy okay?”

“...uhm. Rose is okay.” He had no earthly idea why the giant kept calling the girl _Hermy_ , but wrote it off as some kind of language barrier. Maybe wherever he’d wandered in from had a word for girls with red hair that sounded like _Hermy_. Scorpius was too tired to think about it too much, things were starting to go in and out of focus, getting hazy. And he felt heavy and sick.

“Good. Hermy friend. Hermy good.”

“Yes, yes very good Grawp.” With a big, smelly finger, Grawp tapped on Scorpius’ head in what could only be considered a friendly pat. Then he picked up his waistcoat, slid it on, and ambled away in a different direction. Scorpius heard his low, faint _Bye, bye Scopus_ as he went, and Scorpius could firmly say that he wasn’t sorry to see the big thing go. With a heavy sigh, he went back to Buckbeak and used a boulder to help himself scramble onto his back. It took him a moment to settle behind Rose. He held her upright against his chest, arms braced around her middle as his legs clamped onto Buckbeak. _Just like riding a broom_ , he tried to convince himself silently.

“Okay Buckbeak, let’s go up. Take us home.”

Taking off at a canter, Buckbeak eventually worked up enough momentum to fly upward through the canopy, breaking through to open sky. Feeling the thrill shoot through him, Scorpius whooped his enjoyment as the hippogriff flew up and swooped back in the direction of the castle. Scorpius, realizing the moon was halfway through the sky meaning he’d been in the Forest for nearly six hours, recoiled in shock at how _close_ they were to the grounds. He thought they’d penetrated deep into the Dark Forest, but it was just over the length of the quidditch pitch, something he ran several times every day. Why did he feel so heavy and exhausted then? He’d spent most of his time on Buckbeak’s back. Resolving not to think too deeply about it in favor of enjoying the victory of finding Rose, he let himself slump a little and rested his chin on Rose’s shoulder, suddenly very, very tired. His brain registered that Rose’s hair smelled like coconut.

Once again, the tranquility he’d managed to find in a desperate situation was short-lived. Buckbeak was soon descending to the ground, landing at a trot right into the center of adults who were coordinating the search party. There were shrieks and shouts, and someone calling his name, but Scorpius felt dizzy and confused. The edges of his vision were black and he was starting to see spots. Rose was slipping from his grasp, so he tightened his hold on her, not relinquishing her until he realized that it was Professor Brown trying to get her onto a floating gurney and that they were safe and on the ground. Groggily, he tried to tell them to watch her head. To watch her leg. Cold. He saw Madame Pomfrey and what looked to be her parents and the headmaster, settling her onto the gurney and moving her back to the castle.

“Scorpius,” a soft voice said. He rolled his head, realizing that a hand was cradling it. Professor Brown. She was a pretty woman with soft blonde curls and big brown eyes, except that there was a white scar that traversed her face and three more along her neck. _War wounds_ , he remembered. She was smiling kindly at him, stroking his hair. “You did good, love. Rose is okay. You’re safe.” He tried to tell her about Rose’s leg. She hushed him. “We got you, Scorpius, just close your eyes, okay?” He nodded and let his eyes drift shut, and the last thing he heard was Professor Brown shouting to someone to hurry up with the gurney.

When he woke up a short while later, the first thing Scorpius thought was that he must have fainted in front of the fittest professor at Hogwarts. And he avidly wanted to perish on the spot. The next thing he thought was that his room was a lot whiter and more beige than he remembered it ever being. Then he smelt the foul scent of Skelly-Gro and elfish bleach which meant he was in the hospital wing.

“And there we are,” came the harried voice of the school healer, Madame Pomfrey. “See, Mr. Potter, I told you he would wake soon. Now stop fretting or you will have to leave!” Wait, Mr. Potter? Sitting up too quickly (which wasn’t quickly at all), Scorpius dizzily took in the image of Al sitting to his right. Just beyond him in the other bed was a flash of red, and Scorpius slumped with relief.

“She’s all right,” he breathed out, letting himself fall back onto his pillow.

“Of course she is!” the healer snapped. “And she’ll be much better when we’ve drained all the venom out of her leg.” She shoved a glass at him. “Drink this.” Scorpius hardly had the time to register the foul concoction before he was forcibly gulping it down; his body warmed considerably, sparks shooting up and down his arms and legs. “A few more hours and she would have been beyond all help. So we can thank our lucky stars for your reckless heroics, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter, if you don’t stop fidgeting I will throw you out!” Scorpius heard Al’s mumbled apology as his world stopped spinning long enough for it to come back into focus.

“How do you feel?” Al asked tentatively, scooching his chair closer.

“Remember when Higgins whacked that bludger at my bollocks?” Al winced sympathetically. “Yeah, bit like that, but like…all over. How’s Rose?”

Al was nodding at him, “Better. They got her fixed up and warm, and started pumping stuff into her the muggle way, but they say she’s going to be fine.”

“What’s that rubbish about venom?”

Al’s expression darkened and he fluffed his hair out of sheer stress (he hated that both he and James had picked up on their father’s habit). “Acromantula bite. They figure she ran into one, got bit, fell when she tried to get away, and hit her head. That’s why she was out when you brought her back.” Scorpius shook his head. She’d been unconscious when he found her, if it _was_ an acromantula, it wouldn’t have just left her there. Not if it needed to feed. But Al was insistent. She had responded almost immediately to the antidote, heart rate returning to normal, color coming back. But Scorpius was still too tired to explain.

“Dad says there’s things in the Forest that even the spiders are afraid of,” Al finished with a shrug. “I don’t know what that would be, but he knows better than we do.”

“Your _dad_ is here?” Scorpius whined. Not good.

“ _A lot_ of the aurors were here. They got here an hour after you talked to Professor Longbottom, but when they came to ask you more questions I told them I hadn’t seen you.”

“Great,” Scorpius croaked. Al swatted at him.

“It’s not like you told anybody!” His snappish tone indicated that he was far too stressed and worried to be trifled with. An irate Albus Potter was not something Scorpius felt capable of taking on at present. So he inhaled deeply and tried to reason that both he and Rose were alive, and that was what mattered.

“Well Dad freaked and then Uncle Nev freaked because he said you were angry that they were waiting, so they started the search almost immediately.”

“Anybody get hurt?”

“No. But they couldn’t find you guys either. They kept firing off spells and charms and things, but nothing worked. So, people are pretty skeeved off. Shouting about stupid kids doing stupid things.”

“If I had waited, Rose would be dead.”

Al looked sheepish, “Yeah, well, it still would have been better if you came and got me first.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to get back out. They were locking everything down.”

“True.” He was quiet for a long moment, watching Scorpius who was struggling to keep his eyes open. “Thank you,” Al whispered, “for saving her, I mean. For going after her.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Scorpius…”

“No, seriously, this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better, so let’s not talk about it anymore, yeah?” With a resigned huff, Al slumped back against his chair and Scorpius let his eyes close again.

When he woke again, it was morning and Al was sitting halfway between him and Rose, reading. Scorpius felt loads better, his headache having cleared off and his limbs less heavy. Wanting to stretch, he swung himself to a sitting position, waiting patiently for the vertigo to subside, and then got to his feet. Al watched all of this cautiously but silently. Scorpius had never been a good patient and always seemed to recover better once he was on his feet. The Slytherin boy walked a little and stretched before coming to stand over Rose. She was breathing deeply and evenly, the rise and fall of her chest pronounced, and her face was no longer a deathly gray. On impulse, he reached out and touched her cheek. Warm, not ice cold. Relieved, he slumped. Behind him, Al had summoned another chair and was forcing his friend to sit in it, still facing Rose’s bedside. Understanding that he could keep watch as long as he was sitting, Scorpius complied.

 “You’ve had a trying night Mr. Malfoy you ought to get some rest.” Pomfrey said as she tended to Rose. Every so often, she came to change the dressing on Rose’s leg wound to draw the venom out. The healer claimed it was purely precautionary, to make sure that everything was clean, since she was resting so peacefully. Had there been any left in her system, she would have been having fits. Scorpius was given Pepper Ups cut with pumpkin juice every ten minutes or so. Pomfrey told him that the effects of the Forest were profound, and to be ameliorated gradually. Unfortunately, it was still making him jittery and anxious. According to Madam Pomfrey, both his parents and Rose’s had been in and out while he was asleep. They had gone out to help call in the rest of the search party, and were now with the Headmaster and deputy headmistress.  Al had been dragged out by Professor Brown to talk to his own father. To Scorpius’ mind, this did not bode well.

“I'm resting just fine right here ma’am.”

“Stubborn.”

“A family trait I think,” his mother said from behind him. Scorpius turned to see Astoria Malfoy, green robes and perfectly coiffed black hair (charmed not to appear as curly), glide into the hospital wing. She was smiling, but her eyes looked heavy. His father must still be speaking with Professor Longbottom. Though, if she had left the room, they weren’t going to toss him to the wolves just yet.

“How bad is it?” he asked quietly as she pulled up a chair to sit beside him.  She put an arm around his shoulders, hugging him to her and kissing his head and temple. Unlike his father, Mrs. Malfoy was rarely ever truly angry with Scorpius. Disappointed maybe, but never angry. She always figured that he was a child, a child contending with a family name that would cause him grief all of his life; she wanted him to be defiant and independent. She wanted him to be greater than the sum of his parts.

“Bad enough. Your father’s head near exploded.”

“They were wasting time,” he groused. “We already knew she was in the Forest. I couldn’t just sit and wait.”

“You’re just a boy, Scorpius.” She let that fact settle over him, though he didn’t seem overly concerned by it. His gaze was still riveted to the Weasley girl whose breathing was much more steady and even now. With the warming charms, color was coming back to her face. During her time, Astoria had seen plenty of dead bodies. War does that to you. And when she and Draco had followed the Weasleys into the hospital wing a few hours previous, she had been convinced that little girl was dead. Her skin had been a bluish-gray, her eyes swollen shut, mouth gaping, head bleeding. She’d even _looked_ cold. Awful couldn’t begin to describe it. Madame Pomfrey had her set right in less than ten minutes, explaining to her audience in great detail everything that she was doing and how the girl would react to it. She was quick and precise and _good_. Hermione Granger-Weasley’s sob of relief still echoed in Astoria’s ears, and she’d never been more grateful for the healer in her life.

“I had to _do_ something, mum. And Buckbeak knows the Forest better than anyone.” He shrugged. “He kept me safe. And besides, Grawp…”

“Who is Grawp?”

“No one. Someone. Don't make me tell you. I had help. And then when I found her we got her on Buckbeak and flew straight back.”

“Scorpius…”

“Mum, when they ask me what happened, I’m going to have to lie to them.” She was silent, hoping he would tell her the truth. “Everything will sound much worse than it really is, but I’ve got my reasons.”  Astoria Malfoy sighed heavily and internally, wondering what her husband would say when he realized that their son should have been in Gryffindor. “But I’ve never been very good at lying to you, so I needed you to know that before they call me in there.”

“I don’t understand, Scorpius,” she said wearily, her own gaze wandering over the face of the girl her son had just rescued. Astoria knew that underneath those eyelids were stunning blue eyes; she knew, from Scorpius’ letters, that the girl was boisterous, always laughing at someone, and always arguing about something. It was odd to see her so inert, despite never having met. The girl Scorpius described was just so _alive_.

“I know, mum,” he whispered. “But don’t say anything, yeah?”

Neville Longbottom came to the hospital wing to collect them himself. Astoria smiled when she saw him; he was such an easy-going man, and had really taken a shine to Scorpius. In spite of Draco, she imagined. Neither one had ever mentioned anything to her about their school days, but she could see it in her husband’s eyes. She could see his regret and guilt and fear of discrimination against his son. He needn’t have worried apparently. Even in Scorpius’ darkest hour, Professor Longbottom smiled at him kindly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he led him up to the headmasters’ office where the rest of them were waiting. Astoria Malfoy took one last long look at Rose Weasley before she left. She could only wonder at what such a wiry little thing had done to inspire such heroics and loyalty in her quiet, mild-mannered boy.

As Scorpius took a seat in the only chair in the room, facing the adults, he decided that he would be taking favors from James Potter for _decades_ instead of limiting himself to a flat seven thousand. The firing squad in front of him was one that not many grown wizards could withstand, let alone a thirteen year old: Professor Longbottom and Professor Brown, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, his own parents, Mr. Potter and a petite woman with short blonde hair styled like a man’s. _Susan Bones_ , his memory supplied. Terrifying witch, according to Al, and the third of Mr. Potter’s and Mr. Weasley’s former trio in the Auror Department. To the side were his friends and Hugo Weasley who was torn between looking anxiously at his mother and glaring at Scorpius. Can’t blame the kid, Scorpius thought morosely, he thought the big bad Malfoy tried to get his beloved sister killed. Yet another issue to contend with. Hugo Weasley had a reputation for making people’s lives difficult when he didn’t like them. Impressive for a first year. James was looking particularly miserable, Al was fuming, and the rest of the lads seemed conflicted in their loyalties. On the one hand, protecting the Map was important and keeping James out of trouble was a priority. On the other, they were peeved that Scorpius was taking the fall. They would have to figure that out for themselves because at the present moment, Scorpius was contending with his irate father and a murderous looking Mr. Weasley.

“All right, Scorpius, we’ve informed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley what we know about the past day’s events. Now that you’re feeling better, I’d like you to fill us in on the rest,” Professor Longbottom said gently, taking a seat at his desk. He picked up a qwik-quill and Scorpius groaned internally. Everything would go on record. Bully.

He cleared his throat, “Where would you like me to begin, sir?”

“ _How about_ with why my daughter got it into her head to go into a forest full of dark magic!” Mr. Weasley roared, face nearly purple from exertion. Scorpius winced, but from the corner of his eye he saw Mrs. Weasley tug at her husband’s arm even as his own father rounded on Mr. Weasley. Draco Malfoy was moving for his son and about to let loose a stream of expletives in that general direction, when the headmaster interrupted.

“Merlin, and here I thought the teenagers were bad. Draco, if you start shouting, I will throw you out, do you understand? Ron, do shut up and let Mr. Malfoy explain himself. I’ve had a long couple of days and I’d like to put this matter to bed before Rose wakes up.”

“Apologies, Longbottom.”

“Yeah, sorry Nev.”

But they still rounded on Scorpius, waiting for an answer. He let out a sigh, knowing that at this point, there was no turning back. He’d have to pull out the big guns and play on their stupid rivalry. Everyone would easily believe that Scorpius Malfoy had heard nasty things about Potters and Weasleys, because he honestly had, though not from his parents, and so no one would examine the matter further. Or blame Rose for overreacting, like they always did where James was concerned. With a rueful shake of his head he thought it must be difficult to play second fiddle to Harry Potter’s eldest son, the one named after beloved war heroes, her own parents’ godson. Not for the first time, Scorpius wondered who Rose Weasley vented to and if they had a sympathetic ear. Everyone loved James, but Merlin could he be a prick. That didn’t mean he wanted him to get into trouble. And he certainly didn’t want _Rose_ in trouble for getting wound up about James. Again.

“I was teasing her, sir,” he told them finally. “It was my fault entirely. I knew when I said what I did that she would react that way. I knew better and I’m sorry for it. She shouldn’t be blamed for reacting to my being cruel.” He ignored the looks of surprise on their faces. But what had they expected? That he’d lured her in there? Confuded and left her there? Merlin, they were all mental.

“And what did you say to her, Mr. Malfoy?”

He took a breath, knowing that their parents were watching, that Al and James and Frank and the others were watching and holding their breath. He knew that Mr. Potter was watching him warily, as if he suspected something but didn’t want to interrupt. Or maybe he was just holding back to catch Scorpius in his lie and get them all in more trouble. In for a knut…

“That she wasn’t a real Gryffindor. That she couldn’t live up to her family’s reputation. That she would fail if she tried to.” _But only because she would probably far surpass them all_ , he added silently, praying for quick death. “I told her she wouldn’t go into the Forest by herself because she was chicken.”

They had to believe him. Both he and James got under Rose’s skin in equal amounts. Everyone knew she and Scorpius bickered about everything. If you took James out of the equation entirely, it was the story that made the most sense. And besides, he didn’t want them going into the Forest to hunt down Grawp. He seemed like a good and cheerful sort of giant despite, you know, being a giant. And he’d been genuinely worried about Rose, so he didn’t want him to get into trouble. Or worse, hunted down and killed because he was supposedly dangerous. It wasn’t like the adults would just take his word that Grawp was a good sort. Vaguely, he registered that Mr. Weasley was shouting about punishment and expulsion, and that his own father was talking about children being children, and since Rose was fine (thanks greatly to his son), expulsion seemed harsh. Both mothers were agreeing, though Mrs. Weasley was venomously pointing out that something _ought to be done_.

It was Mr. Potter who interrupted everything. With a strange glare at his own sons, who were looking rather sheepish, he crouched in front of Scorpius, making square eye contact. Scorpius recoiled a bit. Mr. Potter, despite his very relaxed demeanor, was _terrifying_. He knew the man could be incredibly kind, knew he had that capability, but this was a completely different situation. Scorpius was technically like one of his suspects. And it was _scary_. If one considered his reputation alone, it was enough for you to know that he’d seen it all and that you, you pathetic, measly wizard, were nothing at all to the likes of him. He never treated anyone as such, not to Scorpius’ knowledge, but it was acutely felt. Scorpius had spent enough time at the Potters’ over breaks to see that. Funny thing was, Mr. Potter was unquestionably and completely frightened of his tiny wife, who, as far as Scorpius could tell, was just really loud. Still, Scorpius wasn’t exactly of fan of getting in Mr. Potter’s way, let alone on his bad side.

“Scorpius, did you bully Rose into going into the Forest knowing full well that she would?” he asked firmly. Hadn’t he just said so? Why was he asking again?

“Yes,” he lied unhesitatingly. But Mr. Potter’s eyes narrowed just so, and the corner of his lip twitched up. _He knew_. Was Al really, really sure that his father had been a Gryffindor? This was awfully Slytherin of him. But then again, the papers said that Harry Potter had a reputation for interrogation; he’d taken more confessions in his short tenure as Head Auror than people had done in decades. James often suggested that his father didn’t use magical means to interrogate either, and right then Scorpius absolutely believed him. Faced with Harry Potter’s big green eyes, warm eyes with the mischievous glint he often saw in the man’s children, Scorpius was almost compelled to tell him everything. James had obviously gotten the Map from him (though Al was pretty sure he’d stolen it), so Mr. Potter would understand right? He would know all about it. Maybe even let James and them keep it.

“And did you know precisely where she was because that’s where you told her to go?”

“Yes.” His lip twitched again. Strike two.

“And you took Buckbeak right to her, into that clearing one hundred meters from the school grounds with no help from anyone at all?”

“Yes,” he answered again, not flinching at the accuracy. How did he know exactly where Rose had been? Scorpius had only been able to get a good feel for it once he’d been on Buckbeak above the tree line. He’d thought he was much deeper into the Forest, but they must have been walking in circles.

“You met _no one at all_?”

It was Scorpius’ turn to twitch, though he knew that his own tell was a slight tilt of his head. “No, I didn’t meet another person, sir.” Scorpius was actually starting to feel itchy from the lying. Fibbing was one thing, but he was being watched while he deliberately lied to authority figures. Not fun. He was good at it, of course, it came naturally. But he didn’t have to _like_ it. Though, he was satisfied that he answered that last one with a technical truth. A giant wasn’t a _person_ per se, just like mermen and centaurs weren’t technically “people,” they were _beings_. There was a very thin margin, he knew, but it made him more comfortable to phrase it that way. Scorpius heard Mrs. Granger-Weasley’s soft _oh_ in the background and frowned. What was she on about?

“You care about Rose, don’t you Scorpius?” He furrowed his brows, confused by the line of questioning. Strictly speaking, it didn’t matter if he cared about Rose at all. She was lost, he knew how to find her, so he’d done it. End of story. Would he have done it for anyone else? Probably not. But this was Al’s favorite cousin they were talking about. And Al was a great exception to most of Scorpius’ rules.

“She’s Al’s best friend. And Al’s my best friend.” He stopped there, assuming that the logic was sound. He absolutely refused to look at his mother, knowing that she knew everything else was a lie, and kept his focus on Mr. Potter in front of him.

“So why did you say those horrible things to her?”

Ah, the clincher. Not even Mr. Potter believed that mild-mannered Scorpius Malfoy who said please and thank you and offered to help clean up when he visited during the holidays would be so cruel to anyone, much less his best friend’s favorite cousin. Maybe they argued and bickered, but they never got nasty like that with each other. Especially not about family. Scorpius paused, pretending to deliberate on how to answer. In reality, he just wanted it all to sound very impulsive and thus, believable.

He shrugged tightly, “She was being annoying. I lost my temper.”

Because that was true, at least. Rose had been annoying James and he lost his temper. That’s what always happened. James didn’t _mean_ for Rose to put herself in danger. He didn’t mean for her to get lost. Just like Rose hadn’t meant to be annoying and hadn’t meant to cause so much worry and trouble. Scorpius’ heart fell into his bowels when Mr. Potter smiled widely, his green eyes sparkling in mirth. _Oh no_. Mr. Potter sprang back up to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets to face the parents and faculty.

“I, for one, think Mr. Malfoy did a silly thing that made our very, very impulsive Rosie do a silly thing, and that he took all available measures to correct it.”

“ _Thank_ you, Potter. See Weas—?”

“ _But_ , since it was so _stupid_ ,” at this he turned his hard look toward his sons who cowered a little, “And reckless and breaking so very many rules in the process, there ought to be some punishment.” Mr. Weasley crowed. “For the _both_ of them.”

“Harry, I really think Rose has been punished enough,” Mrs. Granger-Weasley argued. Scorpius was about ready to shout his agreement, but was stayed by Mr. Potter’s hand reaching back to prevent him.

“Perhaps,” he said more gently, “But since I’m not in charge around here, I’ll leave it up to our dear Headmaster.” He turned and winked at Scorpius. But then his demeanor and tone grew colder and firmer. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with my _sons_ before I leave.”

Panicked and mournful looks shot between Scorpius and the Potter boys, but he was powerless to do anything to help them. They would have to deal with their father’s interrogation on their own.

While the headmaster conferred with Professor Brown regarding punishment for their pupils, Scorpius’ parents were allowed to escort him back to the hospital wing where he was under strict orders to rest and recuperate for the night. The Weasleys went before them to check in on Rose, not bothering to wait for the Malfoys. In fact, Scorpius’ father kept their pace remarkably slow, considering his usual stride, and was uncharacteristically silent. Scorpius chanced a look at his face to see a deep frown and furrowed brows. Draco Malfoy would publicly defend his son to the death, but in private, he would wonder.

“Draco,” his mother started worriedly.

“Not in the mood, Astoria.” Scorpius winced. Mum hated her full name, and his father only ever called her “love” or her nickname, “Ria.” Only when he was really angry did he get all formal like Grandfather Malfoy. His mother said it was a nasty habit of his, referred to it as his “Lucius Act,” as if he were reverting back to a scripted version of himself. Scorpius hated it. He hated even more when his mother looked at him pleadingly, silently begging him to tell his father the truth. Scorpius looked away pointedly. The hospital wing was much darker and much quieter when they arrived. While his mother helped him settle into the bed, his father stood off to the side, his eyes flicking over to where the Weasleys were bent over their daughter. Scorpius’ gut clenched. But then Madam Pomfrey was coming over with a Pepper Up, chocolate, and a calming draught for when he needed to sleep.

“Still have to get the dark and dreary out of your system. How are you feeling, dear?” she asked tautly. But that was just her voice.

“Like I’m going to hurl,” he admitted scornfully. His mother rapped his forearm correctively for the foul language, but otherwise didn’t say anything. The healer, however, grunted.

“To be expected. Prolonged exposure to that Forest has a nasty effect on the mind and the temper, no matter how many Pepper Ups I shove at you. Miss Weasley will be in for a time of it when she wakes up.”

“When—?” he asked abortively, he stopped when he caught Mr. Weasley’s gaze. He must have looked over after hearing his daughter’s name in their discussion. Logically, Scorpius shouldn’t have felt guilty at all. He’d had nothing to do with it except getting her out of there. But the look on Ron Weasley’s face made him want to crawl in a hole and die. Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat quietly to get his attention back.

“Miss Weasley woke up while you were with the headmaster.” There was a small smile tugging at the corners of her ancient mouth and a rare twinkle in her eyes, “Asking for _you_ , no less.” Scorpius felt his face burn as his parents stared at him suspiciously. “But she needs rest, so she will probably sleep for at least another day.”

“A whole day?” he asked incredulously.

“She was out there in that forest for over a day, Mr. Malfoy with no food and no water and dark magic seeping into her head. Not to mention, she was bitten, and then hit that head of hers and was very obviously concussed. Babbling about spirits talking and kindly giants,” the healer finished on a grumble as she spooned up the potion he needed to take. “Bottom’s up, Mr. Malfoy. Now I expect you to rest here until noon tomorrow. Then you can return to your classes.”

“But I have double Charms tomorrow—!” he complained in a near whine until his mother swatted at him.

“Thank you Madame Pomfrey, we appreciate your hard work.” The elderly healer smiled kindly at Astoria Malfoy, who she remembered as little Ria Greengrass who always seemed to catch the muggle flu, and then less kindly at her surly looking husband, but with a smile nonetheless. They were interrupted by the main door being swung open.

“Hey Poms!” shouted a cheerful Mr. Potter as he overtook the ancient lady in a warm hug.

“Mr. Potter!” she snipped, struggling to accept and get out of his embrace simultaneously. “This is a hospital wing, not a tavern. Do keep your voice down!”

But Harry Potter just smiled brightly at her, patting her shoulder fondly, “Ah, Poms, I’ve really missed these chats with you.” He kissed her cheek loudly as she grumbled about him keeping St. Mungo’s in business singlehandedly, though he laughingly reassured her not to be jealous, their care was abysmal in comparison to hers. With a scowl, she scurried off to finish her duties for the evening, leaving Mr. Potter chuckling in her wake.

“Quit harassing that poor woman,” Mrs. Granger-Weasley chastised evenly from across the room. “Hasn’t she been through enough where you’re concerned?” Her tone was clipped, but her lips were twisted up in a teasing smirk, and Mr. Potter seemed to read it as such. Scorpius relaxed a little. If Rose’s high strung mother was calm, then everything would be fine.

“I specifically remember a certain someone being in here _twice_ one year, once for particularly and devastatingly _hairy_ reasons.”

“You’re such a prat!” she shot back at him. Mr. Weasley’s shoulders were shaking in unexpressed laughter and she slugged his arm for it. “Don’t you laugh!” she hissed, “You were here for three days for eating that stupidly recognizable love potion.”

“I was _poisoned_!” he squawked back.

“You wouldn’t have been,” she pinched his upper arm, “if you had ever thought with anything that wasn’t your stomach!” This provoked a very hushed bickering match full of whispers and poking. Mr. Potter was chuckling, shaking his head at his handiwork in chaos. Instead of going over to them immediately though, he came to stand opposite of where Scorpius’ mother was sitting, his hands shoved in his pockets and looking down at Scorpius with an arched brow.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Malfoy, that I’m of the belief that there are many good reasons to lie, but yours wasn’t entirely sound.”

“ _Potter_ ,” his father growled out menacingly from his side. Scorpius shuddered, he only heard that voice when his father spoke to his grandfather. An echo of a different time. But Mr. Potter waved him off dismissively.

“Are you sure you want to stick to your story?” Mr. Potter asked him quietly. And there it was. He’d already spoken to James and Al, he probably knew everything. Or at least, he could guess at it. But Scorpius didn’t do anything in half measures, and he certainly didn’t break his word to save his own skin. So he nodded silently, stubbornly looking away from the adults around him. He didn’t see Mr. Potter’s short-lived grin.

“Well, I have no qualms about giving my opinion…” Scorpius looked up at him in a panic, so fast that he almost wrenched his neck.

“What are you on about, Potter?” his father demanded.

Mr. Potter answered, lifting his gaze from Scorpius, “I’ve some thoughts about what really happened and I’m convinced that my sons had something to do with it. _However_ ,” he glanced down at Scorpius with raised brows, “it’s all conjecture unless Scorpius changes his story.”

“Why the bloody hell would he lie?” His mother swatted at his father.

The smile on his face dimmed, “I can hazard a guess. Occasionally, even when everything is _spread_ _out_ in front of you, there are some things you simply cannot _see_ , am I correct Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes, sir,” Scorpius whispered, catching on to the wording. _The Map_ , he thought dimly. He was talking about the Map. You could see the edges of the Forest on the Map if you had it open entirely, but not beyond the tree line. His father swore, probably very frustrated that he didn’t know what the hell was going on.

“But there are places out in that Forest that you can reach with a fairly _big_ helping hand, am I correct in that assumption?” Scorpius flushed, wondering how it was that Mr. Potter seemed to know so much without being told.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well…I know my friend _Hagger—”_ Scorpius blinked.

“You mean Hagrid,” he interrupted. Mr. Potter’s lip twitched. _Damn_.

 _“_ Of course, my mistake. As I was saying, I don’t think Hagrid would fare so well in there if it weren’t for the _giant blood_ in him. Though he’s typically very _mum_ on that subject and appreciates extra discretion as well.”

 _Oh, that made so much sense_. “I would imagine so, sir.”

“Good lad,” Mr. Potter said with a wry grin. He looked up at Scorpius’ parents.

“I’ll be speaking with Neville,” Scorpius vaguely registered that that was Professor Longbottom’s name, “but I don’t imagine that Scorpius will be punished beyond a few weeks of detention.” He raised his eyebrows at Scorpius. “It’s _forbidden_ for a reason, young man.” Scorpius looked down, but he was surprised to hear his father snort quietly. Scorpius gaped over at Draco Malfoy, who was now twisting up his mouth incredulously.

“That’s really rich coming from you, Potter.”

“Eh,” Mr. Potter said offhandedly, shrugging languidly, “I do what I can. Besides, I highly doubt that you would wish our experiences on our children, Malfoy.”

“Too right.”

He turned his attention back to Scorpius, “Since you won’t change your story, I’m only going to say this. I’m grateful that you found my goddaughter. I tend to prefer her in one piece.” That’s right, Mr. and Mrs. Potter were Rose’s godparents. “And you can pull the wool down all you want for Professor Longbottom, but I’m not stupid enough to believe my sons weren’t involved in this somehow.” Well then, there was nothing for it with him. He didn’t have to tell anyone else. He could stick to his story until the centaurs came home, but Mr. Potter seemed to know everything anyway. And once again, not for the first time, Scorpius wondered about all the stories he’d heard about the famous hero standing at his bedside. He wondered if people knew even half of what he’d got up to as a boy.

“Well sir, I’m still at fault, and I’ll not say otherwise. But I knew _for certain_ that Rose couldn’t have been in the castle.”

Harry Potter smiled and shook his head as he walked away, “You’re a good friend, Scorpius Malfoy.” He blushed at the praise and diligently prevented himself from making eye contact from either of his parents. Across the way, Mr. Potter was slinging arms around his two best friends to look over his goddaughter.

“How’s the little daredevil doing?” he asked Hermione quietly.

“ _Delinquent_ , you mean,” she hissed back in a hushed tone, not wanting the Malfoys to be privy to anything they were saying.

“Oh come on, Mione,” Ron grumbled, “We went into the Forest loads of times. Harry died there, you remember.”

Hermione hit him. “Oh yes, thanks for the reminder, _Ronald_.”

“Ah, so much love in this room,” Harry said squeezing their shoulders and examining his little niece. Of all his nieces and nephews, Rose was the smallest. Despite inheriting her father’s appetite, she remained short and wiry and unfazed by puberty. Actually, with her eyes closed, she looked so much like Hermione did at her age that it hurt his heart. Hermione, petrified by a basilisk, laying in one of those beds. Then an image of eleven year old Ginny Weasley crumpled up on the floor of an ancient chamber, dank and cold, rose up and swarmed his mind. Harry wondered if Scorpius had felt the same panic, the same revulsion Harry had felt all those years ago. And then he felt that weight lighten again; as a third year, a Malfoy had put Hermione Granger’s daughter on Buckbeak’s back and flown her over the forest and school grounds. The same hippogriff his own father had done his best to have executed had willingly bent to allow Scorpius on his back. Harry shook his head, what a mad, parallel world they were living in.

“So do you really think the boys have the Map?” Ron whispered, angling himself to block the Malfoys behind them. Harry nodded. Without a single bloody doubt one of his boys, most likely James, had nicked the Map from its secure hiding place in his home office. Security, bah, he should have known better naming that kid after two of the worst troublemakers in Hogwarts history. _They would have wanted to lure you out of the school. They’d think it extremely entertaining_. Even from the grave, Remus Lupin was proving to be correct. When Neville told him how insistent the boys had been that Rose was missing, and how Scorpius knew for a fact she was in the Forest, Harry had immediately been suspicious. He was not one to underestimate his eldest son. Then there was the major hole in Scorpius’ story; he’d seen firsthand how he and Rose argued, but never once did Scorpius’ temper lead him out of bounds, no matter what Rose said to him. He simply didn’t respond that way. But Harry knew for a fact that James _did._ James was the only person who could rile Rose up to such dangerous impulses. He heard Hermione let out a sigh.

“I know we agreed that Teddy should have it…” she said sitting and tucking the blanket tight around her daughter. “But there are so many of them here now, and I’m not sure it’s the best idea…”

“You don’t think Teddy told James about it, do you?” Ron asked.

“Doubtful,” Harry answered. “I told him that I hadn’t made a decision about what to tell the boys about it, and he knows better when it’s James.” He rubbed at his chin. “It’s rightfully theirs, but Hermione’s right. There’s too many Weasleys and Potters here now. Not exactly the responsible thing to do.”

Ron snorted, “What?” he demanded of his annoyed wife, “We weren’t always _responsible_ with it. Do you not remember that people were always trying to kill Harry? We were running around the school and grounds at all hours, willy nilly.”

“I’m pretty certain that I usually had a plan,” Harry protested, which made Hermione scowl. Plans, ha.

“And besides,” Ron continued, “If James nicked it out of Moody’s trunk then there’s nowhere he couldn’t find it.”

“Bottom of the trunk,” Harry corrected, “In an enchanted puzzle box Luna brought me from Japan.”

“That doesn’t bode well for the cloak,” Hermione grumbled. But Harry just patted his Auror robes where the cloak was shrunk to fit in an inner pocket. James Sirius Potter would get his father’s invisibility cloak over his cold, dead body. Meaning he’d inherit it when Harry died, as tradition stated. Besides, it was still dead useful for fieldwork.

“Well it doesn’t sound like they actually _used_ the Map to do something bad.”

“Not from what I can tell, no.”

“And what does Scorpius say?” Hermione asked gently. Ron scowled. There were varying degrees regarding the Weasleys’ opinion of the Malfoy heir. Harry liked him a good deal and Ginny thought he was a good influence on Al. And despite Ron’s contempt for the boy who reminded him of his childhood nemesis, Hermione seemed to have a soft spot for him. Everyone else was neutral, thinking that he was well-behaved and polite, not a trace of the nasty superiority Draco had often displayed. Harry couldn’t figure if that was more Astoria’s influence or Draco’s, but he was beginning to believe the latter.

“Sticking to his story. He bullied Rose. She went off without telling anyone, and when they couldn’t find her in the castle, he took Buckbeak into the Forest and found her where he said she’d never go.” He left out the part that he was almost positive that it was the clearing where he’d gone to face down Tom Riddle. It deeply disturbed him that the place was so well hidden from tracking spells and Sight. Upon their arrival to the school, a dozen different Aurors cast their best and came up empty. Susan Bones, nicknamed “Bloodhound Bones” had circled the spot Buckbeak had flown up from for nearly an hour, unable to penetrate it. When Susan reported back about the area surrounding, Harry _knew_ the place. In his gut, he knew it was where he’d crossed over so very briefly. According to Firenze, who Harry had called for while the children recuperated, that spot had become a Shaded place, a place outside space and time, razed by dark magic. Forest creatures didn’t go there. That his own goddaughter had found it unwittingly, or worse, had been drawn there, made him nauseous. Though, it also bothered him that Grawp _and_ Scorpius had found it without much effort. But Firenze explained that away with a dismissive snort. _Like choose like_. At the time of Harry’s death, both Narcissa Malfoy and Hagrid had been present. It was possible that the Shaded place acknowledged their kin and allowed them passage through. It still, however, didn’t explain Rose, but they wouldn’t know for sure until she woke up anyway.

“He’s loyal,” Ron grunted interrupting Harry’s thoughts as he traced the freckles across Rose’s nose, “I’ll give him that.”

“But you’re sure Grawp helped him?”

Harry nodded, “Absolutely sure. That’s about as close to the grounds Grawp ever gets anymore. I’ll bet he found her first and ran for Hagrid. Besides with a little prodding the kid seemed to know what I was talking about.” They laughed at the idea of him trying to be subtle, but honestly, they often underestimated him. It was probably more to do with the fact that the subterfuge and the secrecy with his family had become draining. He’d been through too much to play games with them. “At any rate, he seems to understand that there’s a good reason to keep quiet about it.” Yes, the faculty knew about Grawp, but it wouldn’t do to have students daring each other to go find him. Grawp was notoriously shy.

“How’s Draco?”

“Confused. Very obviously furious with me. But the kid won’t budge, what can I do?”

Hermione looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye, “Probably a sight more than you’re willing to.” He shrugged. The other little bit niggling at him was Rose’s involvement in all of this. Was he surprised that she’d gone into the Forest alone without telling anyone? No, allow him to introduce you to her father, the ever-stubborn Ron Weasley who rarely thought his actions through to the next three seconds. What’s worse, she was also in that lower middle bracket in the line-up of cousins, constantly trying to stand out and prove herself. He wanted to shout at her to slow down and quit fighting so hard for it; individuality would come. She would distinguish herself in due time. But it was like talking to ghosts and shadows. Had Ron ever listened to that advice when they were young? Not once. His daughter certainly wouldn’t. Even still, Harry was bothered by Scorpius’ rash decision to go after her. Why just him? Why hadn’t the other boys gone with him? What made a Malfoy so eager to save a Weasley and cover for a Potter? Their time at Malfoy Manor, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange, flashed through Harry’s mind’s eye. He thought about how easily he had disarmed one of the best duelers in their year. Shrieks of _Don’t kill him!_ rang heavy in his ears. But he shook the thoughts off. The past had very little to do with their children, as they seemed to be acting of their own reckless volition. And somehow, some way, Scorpius was lying for Rose. Harry just couldn’t pinpoint how. Quietly, he thought of Ginny, and how he’d never fully described to her how he felt watching Tom Riddle drain the life from her.  


*

Rose’s parents were sleeping in guest quarters when she woke up at two in the morning. Everyone else had left, Al protesting loudly. As soon as Scorpius was sure that Pomfrey was down for the night, he’d rolled to his feet and gone to sit at Rose’s beside. He was too keyed up to sleep, wanting to hear her breathing, just in case. So he nearly fell out of his chair when her eyes fluttered open and she gasped.

“Where am I?” she croaked out in a whisper. Spastically, Scorpius shot up to pour her some water, sitting on the side of her bed to help her drink it.

“Hospital wing,” he explained as she leaned forward took small sips. Her brow furrowed, and she obviously had several follow up questions, but she just stared at him for a moment and shook her head.

“Why do I feel like I fought the squid and lost?” she finally asked him, re-settling in the bed and letting her head crash to the pillow. He winced, remembering that he’d cupped her head and examined the wound there. The knowledge that Pomfrey had healed it immediately didn’t seem to ameliorate his distress. Instead, he set the water glass on the bedside table and took his seat again, pulling it closer so he could lean against the end rail.

“Acromantula bite.”

“Bugger.”

He paused, “Do you—? Do you remember anything?”

He watched her play with the frayed end of the blanket. There was low candlelight, probably enchanted light now that he thought of it, so he could see her face clearly. Rose Weasley was not adept at hiding her feelings. Everything was splayed out like a detailed diagram in a textbook; you could pinpoint her mood based on the height of her eyebrows or the lines around her mouth. It was a wonderful thing for a thirteen year old boy who was confused about why girls felt the need to muddy everything. Domi very knowledgeably informed him that teenage girls had an enormous amount of pressure put on them to perform for the _male gaze_ (which she spat out like a dirty word), that they were taught that they had to behave a certain way to be liked by both boys and girls. If they didn’t, they were _peculiar_ , but if they did, then they were slags, so girls learned very quickly to hide their feelings one way or another. Scorpius found this sad, even though he kind of understood it in a roundabout way. Still, Rose’s blatant disregard for this societal precept soothed him and his irascible need for logical order.

“I—I remember being mad at James…I remember going into the Forest, but…After that, it’s fuzzy.”

“You hit your head.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, focusing intently on the string between her thin fingers, “I keep thinking that this goofy looking giant picked me up and put me on an eagle’s back.” She looked up at him pleadingly, desperate for someone to tell her what had happened. “But I must have dreamed that, right?”

Scorpius’ chest wrenched because she looked so small and confused. He was torn as to how much he should tell her. Had Mr. Potter stuck around, Scorpius would have consulted him, but as it was, no one else knew the whole truth. On the one hand, it would be nice to confess everything to someone without speaking in code. On the other, he wasn’t sure he wanted Rose to know about his involvement. Though, he had to tell her about the cover up for James. He still wasn’t sure how she’d react about their attempt to protect the secret of the Map. Scorpius decided that it was a moot point because she was the one to cause most of the trouble anyway.

“Actually,” he started slowly, and then he proceeded to tell her everything from start to finish. For some reason he was vague on how the actually left the Forest, mostly because he was tired and fuzzy himself, but he left it at Grawp putting her on Buckbeak’s back and getting out. She was Not Happy with James. She was also rather annoyed that Scorpius had taken the fall, but this was overshadowed by his rescuing her. She was _relieved_ that there wasn’t some imaginary giant living in her subconscious, but still very confused as to how she’d gone so deep into the forest in the first place. Rose told him that as he spoke and described things, she remembered going maybe ten feet into the forest before she got startled and ran. But then she was lost and she tripped and got turned around when the big spider leapt out at her. She didn’t remember the bite or running from it, or even hitting her head, but all of that must have happened.

“But, you know, all of that is strange and everything, but there’s one thing I _really_ don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“You,” she said in a duh-voice, as if it were glaringly obvious that _he_ was the piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit. Scorpius was too stunned to respond. “I get it about the Map, but honestly, Uncle Harry would have figured that out sooner or later. James is the smartest idiot I ever met.” Scorpius snorted, that was very true. She smiled at his agreement. Not many people agreed with her about James, least of all one of his mates. “So if you had taken it to Uncle Nev, he would have consulted Uncle Harry, and Uncle Harry just would have taken it back, no questions asked. James would have gotten in trouble, but probably not as much as he thinks because he’s everybody’s favorite. He would have been fine.”

“That is the logical thought, yes.”

“So why lie? Why cover for James? Why rush out to get me when help was on its way?”

His first impulse was to blurt it out. To just tell her about his foolish need to prove he belonged with the others. But then, that had really been more about the Map, hadn’t it? He offered to lie to protect their cherished secret. To keep James from getting into real trouble. Originally, he hadn’t had a single thought about going after Rose, especially not alone. The only real explanation he had was panic. When Professor Longbottom decided to call the Aurors first and get a plan together, to assemble as many people as he could before going in, Scorpius had felt numb all over. He remembered not being able to breathe for a solid second. And the _anger_. He couldn’t remember shouting at an adult like that, ever, in his life. Not once, no matter how angry he was. And it was the _headmaster of his school_. A decorated war hero, a man who had been memorialized for his service to wizardingkind. _And Scorpius shouted at him for not being fast enough_. In his own defense, Madame Pomfrey was sure that Rose wouldn’t have survived much longer. So he did feel a little vindicated.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he lied airily, “Al would have been a devil to live with if you’d died.”

Rose smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

*

“Well this is just bloody absurd,” Hermione Granger-Weasley mumbled over her morning tea. In her hands was the latest letter from her daughter, fully awake and recovered, and writing them utter nonsense. After waking, she’d begged her parents to go home and rest and not worry about her because she was _fine_. Later, she gave her version of events to Neville, and of course he’d written to them about their conversation. But reading it in Rose’s familiar looping scrawl was flabbergasting.

“What’s absurd?” her husband called from behind the door of their charmed refrigerator, a helpful item for when they had muggle guests.

“Rose is still insisting that Scorpius Malfoy never said a thing to her about the Forest. She’s saying it was all her own idea and that she went in to go and I quote, _exploring_. Alone without telling anyone.” She dropped the parchment to the paper, pushing her reading glasses to the top of her head to rub at her eyes. “I don’t understand why she’s lying.”

“Maybe she’s not,” her husband said reasonably. “Harry says Malfoy’s lying, so maybe Rose is telling the truth.”

“But then why would _Scorpius_ lie? It just doesn’t make any bloody sense!”  Ron came around the corner carrying yoghurts and spoons, a small wheel of cheese, crackers, and what appeared to be Jell-O. She’d married a man-child. With a sigh, he set everything on the table and plopped into the seat next to her, kicking his feet up on the chair across from him and opening a yoghurt.

“Well. I think there are probably two potential answers to that.”

“Do tell.” She swiped the cheese.

“One. Those boys are far more diabolical than previously realized, did something incredibly out of bounds, and so they’re all covering it up.”

“And two?” Ron sighed, taking a thoughtful bite of his snack and bobbling his head like he was meeting some inevitable fate head on.

“Or two. A Malfoy fancies a Weasley.”

“Bugger.”

“Indeed,” her husband agreed with a lift of his eyebrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **If this whole scenario seems silly and unnecessary, it's because the logic has been left to a group of thirteen and fourteen year olds. So.***


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixth Year

_Something about that glory just always seemed to bore me_

_'Cause only those I really love will ever really know me_

 

One thing that Rose Weasley had craved all of her life was attention. Compared to her other girl cousins, she was mousy and small and far more plain (Honestly, who could compete with Veela blood?). Compared to her boy cousins, she was less bold and less charming. She would never be as clever as Lucy or Al. She would never be as good at Quidditch as Roxy and James. The only thing that made her stand out was her constant need to argue. As far as reputation and dating went, this wasn’t the ideal, but she’d learned to live with it. She had gone out with a couple of boys, cowed them into submission, and then promptly ditched them because she couldn’t stand it. Instead of male attention and envious female attention, Rose had gone out of her way to distinguish herself as “successful.”

This included a variety of things, top tier grades, clubs, Quidditch, and a prefecture. These were the things her parents had always wanted for her, _experiences_ , notice and acclaim through official means. This was a concept she’d struggled with because both of her parents, her godparents, and a butt load of her relatives were written up in _history textbooks_. Students her age learned about the lives and times of Ron and Hermione Granger-Weasley, best friends and cohorts of the famous savior of the wizarding world, Harry Potter. Did we mention that he is married to the extremely talented and famous Holyhead Harpies Chaser, Ginny Potter nee Weasley, the youngest Rookie of the Year in a century who happens to be Ron Weasley’s little sister?

No? That wasn’t enough? Allow me to introduce you to Harry Potter’s in-laws, all heroes, mostly married to heroes, all with very heroic friends doing very successful things with their lives. For fuck’s sake, Al’s godfather was the Hogwarts _headmaster_. How much more official could they get?

But then Uncle Harry had sat her down and explained some things to her about her parents, how isolated they’d been, how distracted and worried they’d been, how cut off from all things _normal_ all because he was Harry-Sodding-Potter and that demanded constant care and attention. He pointed out that her mum couldn’t speak with any boy without some reporter making a comment about her relationship to _him_ , and that he was pretty sure he’d messed up a few chances for her. He pointed out that her father was always overshadowed, always considered a sidekick and second best when standing next to Harry. Which was untrue, but people didn’t know that until the war was long over. Uncle Harry explained to her that her parents were just trying to make sure that she had nothing but the best, because for them, the best came much, much later.

This hadn’t sat well with Rose for a long time. She was indignant at the idea that they were living vicariously through her. Annoyed that they had all these expectations for her. But, it didn’t stop her from hitting every mark they put in front of her, as made obvious when the Gryffindor team chose her for captain. Truthfully, she was excited. She loved the game, loved calling the shots, and she thought her team had a really good chance at the Cup this year. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it until her stupid family went and threw her for a loop.

First it was Al, looking annoyed and flustered during their revising session, telling her that Scorpius Malfoy had turned down the Slytherin captaincy. It was a well-known fact that Scorpius was the best Keeper at Hogwarts. It was a fact that Rose cherished greatly that she was a better Chaser than he was a Keeper. So the idea that he’d turned down the same job she cheerfully accepted had disturbed her greatly. _And then_ , Fred’s ex-girlfriend, Rhonda Hale, who was now Head Girl, came complaining to Rose that they couldn’t find a replacement for Slytherin’s sixth year prefect because Hamill was _quite finished_ with the job and her first pick for a replacement had turned it down! And _who_ was her first pick? Scorpius Malfoy. Fred, James, and the Scamanders standing nearby had laughed uproariously at the thought of their best mate being made a prefect. And Rose had bristled. What was wrong with being a prefect? Again, they laughed.

So naturally, Rose was in a rage, and her only solution was to go find Scorpius and confront him about it.  As sixth years, they still weren’t very friendly. Despite the events of third year when he’d saved her life, there was a divide between them. Before that weekend, Scorpius had been polite to her when necessary, even if they were always rowing about one thing or another. But ever since that night when he told her what had happened, he’d been reserved. Cold, standoffish, it didn’t matter, but she knew he actively tried to avoid her. As a result, Rose was defensive and churlish whenever they interacted.

Scorpius thought she was arrogant and abrasive. Rose thought he was stuffy and priggish.

He was just so _uptight_ , he couldn’t talk about anything without it being completely logical, and he could be so sarcastic and disapproving that it made her sick. He was always, always criticizing things she said and did, pointing out every inconsistency like she was doing it on purpose. And he was so competitive that it was infuriating! He was always goading her into debates, making her look like an aggressive bint when she did engage and laughing at her when she didn’t. But he never got riled up. He hadn’t gotten into a real fight since first year and even then he’d not thrown the first punch or hex since that first scrape. And _even then_ , he was usually backing up one of the boys. He never responded to quips about his family anymore, never even appeared angry with anyone. He didn’t even bother getting upset during their arguments, he just mocked her. _It was maddening._

They put up with each other for Al’s sake.

She used the Map and went to find him in the Forest near Hagrid’s. A bit perversely, Rose thought it funny that it was her turn to go look for him among the trees, but she stopped herself there. Occasionally, when she thought about it too much, Rose dreamed of a deep bed of feathers and being held protectively. She dreamed of a weight on her shoulder as wind raced across her face; she dreamed of feeling safe. And it was stupid because she didn’t _remember_ being on Buckbeak’s back. She didn’t _remember_ leaving the Forest at all. But the dream was vivid and it was unsettling.

Scorpius was just beyond the first few lines of trees, well within sight of Hagrid’s vegetable patch. She watched him toss something into the air, watching for a moment before his shoulders shook with laughter. It was strange to see him so at ease in a place that didn’t harbor good memories for either of them. _Of course_ , Rose had gone back in on several occasions, just to prove to herself that she could. But she also wasn’t a silly third year with no practical skills. She did just fine on those short walks.

 “What are you doing out here?” she called out, interrupting her own thoughts. He spun casually on his heel, not bothering to look surprised at her interruption. Annoyingly perfectly composed in a way that Rose never got _close_ to feeling.

“Feeding the thestrals,” he told her indifferently.

“Where are they?” He pointed to a clearing in the trees and rolled an apple in their direction.

“Don’t move too much, they spook easy.” He said this like it was common practice for him. And maybe it was. Aunt Luna said that Hagrid used to give her food to feed the thestrals. She said they were such quiet, tranquil souls that it soothed the mind to be near them. Rose was uncomfortable with the idea of things existing when she couldn’t see them herself. Though, it didn’t really surprise her that Scorpius would take to them; sometimes he was so quiet and unassuming that people forgot he existed too.

“I thought you had to see someone die to be able to see thestrals,” she tossed out tactlessly, not recognizing her mistake.

“You do.”

 _A-and_ now she did. Internally, she cringed. Why did she always have to be such an _idiot_ around him? Honestly, he made her feel angry and stupid and Rose Weasley _did not like_ feeling stupid. To everyone else, especially Al, she said that Scorpius was to blame for her behavior, that he “brought it out” in her. Privately, she thought she was just a terrible person because he was so fucking chill all of the time and she just wanted to provoke him into flipping out.

“Oh.”

He sighed, “A muggle boy I knew as a child. Fell from a tree.”

“I’m sorry.” And she was. She was sorry for anyone who’d lost somebody. Rose never had. Well, not anyone she was alive to have met. She still had all of her important people. But she couldn’t figure out if it was worse to lose someone and not have been there, or worse to watch them die and not be able to do anything about it. It was a philosophical question she’d grappled with a few times. Near death experiences at a young age did that to you.

He shrugged, “It was a long time ago. Sometimes I still wonder what would have happened after I started school. You know, if he’d lived. Not sure how you manage a friendship with a muggle when you go to a magical school most of the year.”

“Plenty of people do it,” Rose said carefully, making her way closer to where he was standing. She walked cautiously, not wanting to run into a thestral by mistake. Scorpius observed this and laughed softly through his nose, but didn’t comment.

“Plenty of people aren’t Malfoys,” he told her drolly instead. There was a long pause as the apple he rolled into the clearing disappeared.

“Do you ever see Grawp out here?” she asked lightly. “I’ve always wondered…”

“Sometimes,” he answered with a shrug. “But you have to go pretty deep. He doesn’t like being around too many people and I think there are too many students hanging around for his liking this close to the grounds.”

“He doesn’t like people?” she probed.

“Did you come out here for a reason?”

That was fair, she supposed. She had. There was a good reason. But all of it had faded…a little when she caught sight of him. It was particular problem she had: curiosity. And since Scorpius was so reticent about his opinions, so combative whenever she stated one of hers, his personal life seemed to her a gold mine of information. Probing was one of her best skills after all.

“Al told me you turned down the captaincy.”

“Sure did.”

“And the prefecture.”

“Just because Robb Hamill doesn’t want to do it anymore, doesn’t mean I have to.” He turned to look at her. “Weasley, does it _bother_ you that I turned those offers down?”

“ _I’m_ the Gryffindor captain.”

“Yes, I heard. Congratulations.”

“ _I’m_ a prefect.”

“An egregious flaw in the system in my opinion, but that’s neither here nor there. Do you have a point?”

She crossed her arms. “I worked really hard for those things. Roxy was the only one to make captain when she was here. Teddy was Head Boy and Vix was Head Girl and Lucy was a prefect. Everybody clumps us all together, I’ve been trying to be different.” He snorted. “It’s not funny!”

“It is. A little.”

“How?” she demanded. “How is that funny to you?”

“Because all of you are so different from the others, and yet you expend so much energy trying to make those differences pronounced.”

“What are you on about?”

“Anybody who knows you lot even a little knows that you’re all wildly different from each other. Even if ten of you are obsessed with Quidditch, you all play different positions, play them differently, and have different favorite teams. And your tempers all flare up in different ways. James _loses_ it because his anxiety can’t contain it. Al is hot and cold so fast you get whiplash. Lily pretends to be perfectly at ease until the opportunity to eviscerate you presents itself. Hugo is so mellow that I don’t even think he _has_ a temper, let alone expresses it. Fred is confrontational and direct. Louis is so passive aggressive that it’s cringe-worthy. Molly yells. Lucy lectures. Roxy glares at you until you shit yourself and apologize. Vix is a maddening combination of all three. And don’t get me started on Domi’s violent tendencies.”

“I didn’t realize you were paying so close attention to my cousins.”

“Al talks about them a lot,” he shrugged. “And _some of us_ are even friends.” He added that last bit on with no small amount of sarcasm. People were still very confused about his relationships with the Weasley-Potters. They expected them to be hateful to each other. They expected them to be enemies. They expected them to be like Rose and Scorpius.

“What about me?”

“Hmm?”

“You talked about everyone’s temper but mine. How does mine _flare up_?”

“Oh, uhh,” he cleared his throat. “You argue. Ruthlessly, until the other person agrees with you or they give up because they’re sick of it.” She blanched and smothered a protest. It was true…everyone said so. But the way he said it made it sound…No. It was what it was.

“That sounds…annoying.”

“It really is.” She hesitated, kicking at a rock near her toe.

“You don’t give up when we argue.”

“No,” he laughed.

“You never agree with me either.”

“That’s more about the principle of the thing than the truth.”

“And what’s the principle?”

He smirked, “Never let a Weasley beat you.” She had to smile at that. Her father had a similar principle: Never let a Malfoy beat you. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Still haven’t said why you’re here, Weasley.”

“I guess…I just want to know why you turned them down. I would have thought with your father and all—”

“That I would want to do my best to restore my family’s reputation and live up to my father’s absurdly high expectations for me and my future?”

“Yeah…” she breathed out, feeling a little guilty. His tone was so venomous that she was a little startled by it. He was usually so… _boring_.

“Well, forgive me for not giving a damn about what the world thinks about my last name. And my father accepted a long time ago that I was never going to be exactly what he wanted. I’m not a bloody tool for his redemption.”

“I—?”

“Thought that because your father’s the hero and mine’s the villain that I would want to help him as much as you want to push back against yours?”

She sighed, “That would make the most sense.” Scorpius shook his head in irritation. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a chuck of red meat that he tossed into the air and it vanished.

“Thing is, my father did the things he did because he couldn’t think for himself. He made all of his decisions how other people wanted him to. I decided when I came here, that I was going to do things only if I wanted to do them. Too many rules being a Prefect. Too much stress being captain. I like my leisure time.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” she admitted evenly. But inside she was a mess of conflicted emotions. On the one hand, he was so _right_ to think that way. Domi had always said that it wasn’t her responsibility to perpetuate a perfect Weasley family image, her job was to be herself. On the other hand, his words stung like the ripping accusation it was. Rose studied because her mother was a genius and everyone expected her to be smart too. She played Quidditch because her family was known for it. She’d accepted the prefecture because her mother had been a prefect and Head Girl when she came back for her eighth year. She was going to apply to be an Auror because her uncle was department head, her father was a former Auror, and because Domi and Lucy were Aurors, while James and Fred had just begun their applications. One from every family, they’d joked. It was expected of her. Her gut roiled at the implication.

“Merlin, Weasley, don’t make that face at me.”

“Beg pardon?” 

“I can’t take that misery,” he gestured at her face, “dripping off of you. I wasn’t making a comment on your perfect little life. We don’t really have all that much in common, so don’t take it personally.”

“Actually,” she argued, annoyed about the “perfect life” jab, “I’m starting to think that we’re more alike than we realized.”

“Highly doubt that.”

“My parents are always trying to get me to experience what they missed out on. My dad was the second to last in his family, so he always had hand-me-downs and never got anything he wanted. Now he bends over backwards if I even suggest that I like something even a little. Everything I own is brand new and sometimes it’s embarrassing. My mum says that they missed out on doing a lot of things when they were kids, so she’s always telling me to join clubs and date and _participate_. And they’re always so _afraid_. They keep thinking they’re going to mess up or someone’s going swoop in and ruin everything. They treat me like a fragile little baby and then expect me to be tough and brave and better than they were. So maybe your father’s a little different and puts the words differently, but I expect that it’s about the same.” She inhaled sharply at the end of her rant, not realizing that she’d hardly taken a breath.

Scorpius was smiling wryly at her, a closed mouthed thing one side higher than the other. And Rose suddenly felt embarrassed, her ears probably beet red, like they always were. Her mum teased that her father did the same thing. She stood there, shifting her weight from foot to foot, waiting for him to rip her commentary to shreds like he always did. She waited for his cold, calculating logic that broke her impassioned speeches into naïve, uninformed subjective opinions. He would call her arrogant or privileged or tell her that she never educated herself on the opposing sides properly. She waited for his sarcastic responses to all of her assumptions. But she never got it.

“You’re right.” 

*

The second week in November, every sixth year taking Defence was bursting with energy and excitement. They were going to be given the opportunity to really practice casting the patronus charm. Theory and lore were taught extensively to fifth years, but since it was advanced magic, they weren’t required to be able to cast it for their OWLs. It was, however, required for NEWTs. If you demonstrated proper wand technique and could recite the theory you would get an A. Incorporeal casts received an E. And full-bodied patronuses received an O. Aurors were required to be able to cast the charm, along with many other positions in the ministry, law enforcement or otherwise. James and Fred were already able to cast corporeal forms, but the Scamanders had dropped Defence in favor of individual study for Magical Creatures and several WOMBAT classes. Frank was obviously taking it to be a Curse Breaker, though he was more focused on his Runes, but Donnie dropped in favor of a WOMBAT on wizarding business practices. Al, as expected, dropped Defence from his schedule since he was more interested in international politics and wizarding law than the practical use of it. Rose and Scorpius, however, both kept it. Rose wanted to be an Auror, and Scorpius had a vested interest in Defence theory and practicum as it related to his studies in history and education. His class load was much heavier than his classmates’ as a result. Despite his heavy workload, Scorpius was decidedly neutral on the topic of the patronus charm, and he was shocked to learn that Rose was as well.

She shrugged broadly when Frank brought it up in the Lupin Common, “Mum started teaching me and Hu a couple years ago. It took a while, but mine’s a lioness and Hu’s got something that looks like a fish. Dunno what kind though.”

“Wicked,” Frank said high fiving her. “Dad kept promising to teach me, but never got around to it. Chuffed to be learning from the best though.”

Al’s father was coming in to teach them the practical use of the charm. Scorpius had heard a hundred times from the Weasley-Potters that Mr. Potter had been casting the charm full-bodied since his third year of school. Remus Lupin, Teddy’s father, had taught it to him, evidently, because dementors had been sent to guard the school and Mr. Potter had an adverse reaction to their presence. Scorpius was also informed that Mr. Potter had spent a good portion of his fifth year teaching it to his friends and classmates, a list which included not only his wife, best friends, Donnie’s father, and Mrs. Scamander, but their own headmaster as well. It was impressive, to say the least, his being able to teach it. Scorpius wasn’t wholly intimidated, though. His father, the summer before, had taught him the charm. In all likelihood, his reasons were vastly different from Mrs. Granger-Weasley’s reason for teaching Rose and Hugo.

The Weasley-Potters probably taught their children things because they were testing their skill levels, training them to be protectors. Scorpius’ father told him, point blank, that the only reason he taught Scorpius was because he wanted to prove that his son _could_ cast it, to Scorpius, to himself, to…everyone probably. Draco Malfoy, being a former Death Eater and having cast several Unforgivables, was no longer capable of producing a patronus, no matter what he did or tried. This had not been an insight that Scorpius welcomed. The question of Scorpius’ capability came about when some Hufflepuff made a stray comment about how most Death Eaters’ kids were just as bad as the parents. Scorpius didn’t know if she’d noticed his presence, but the comment stuck. He’d gone to his father with questions. In the end, Draco wanted to prove to everyone, Scorpius included, that his son was nothing like him. That Scorpius was the one good and whole and decent thing he’d ever done. Scorpius proved him right by casting a corporeal form on his sixth attempt.

“What about you Scorpius?” Frank asked amiably, “You raring for it?”

Scorpius hesitated, his gaze shifting over to Al who wasn’t really paying attention. Al was the only other person who knew that Scorpius could cast the charm, though he wasn’t wise to Scorpius’ form. Rose was the one who turned the whole of her focus to him, her eyes bright with energy and excitement. She liked to push herself, test her limits. The patronus charm was an expert level of magic, something that happened from sheer force of will instead of skill. Of course Rose was excited, of course she wanted to share that excitement with her friends. Scorpius felt his chest tighten, and he tried to keep his voice even.

“Yeah, absolutely. Do you think it’ll be more effective coming from someone as experienced as Mr. Potter? Or is the full weight on the caster?” This, as he’d predicted, sparked a discussion between Frank and Rose who were of two different minds. Rose thought the teacher bore the brunt of explanation. Frank believed you had to feel your way through it, and no one could teach you that. Al, however, narrowed his green eyes at Scorpius with no small amount of perturbation. Much to Scorpius’ astonishment, he remained blessedly mum on the subject.

Scorpius was never more grateful to be paired with Ravenclaw in the whole of his life. Usually, he couldn’t stand the lot of them. They were always experimenting and subverting things, asking questions of the professor that weren’t pertinent to the topic. Scorpius like learning as much as the rest of them, but he also wanted to pass his exams so that he could _continue_ learning. He couldn’t count how many times he’d snapped at a Ravenclaw to do their own research and shut it during class. As a result, he wasn’t friendly with too many sixth year Ravenclaws besides Ava, and she wasn’t taking Defence either. It meant he could cast the patronus for Mr. Potter in peace without worrying too much that it would get back to Rose.

And he was tremendously worried that Rose would hear about it.

He didn’t practice while waiting like the others. Though, he did have to stop himself from laughing at his classmates’ pathetic attempts. They seemed to think that if they said the incantation with enough feeling, they would generate a spark. That’s not how it worked. Words were useless. But it was funny watching them try. Mr. Potter was taking them in groups of threes, demonstrating his technique and then asking them to replicate it. His stag came bounding through the room nearly a dozen times. Several students came back saying that they’d had lengthy conversations with Mr. Potter about their childhoods and personal lives, too. Obviously he was picking their brains for happy memories, testing which were the strongest and advising on how to focus. Scorpius wasn’t thrilled to hear it. He stayed at the back, reading a text on American history that Rose had nicked off her mum, until most of the class had already gone and were practicing and helping one another.

Almost half the class could produce a partial, if not full, body. But they weren’t very dynamic, and they didn’t last long. His classmates evidently believed that once they cast a fully body the first time, it would get stronger and stronger. Again, that’s not how it worked. Mr. Potter had even said that the bodies would flesh out and become fuller with time, practice, and need. But after the first casting, their energy was depleted and the feeling of the memory not as strong. Their frustration with the process was tedious.  Scorpius waited until there were only four students left, himself included, to make his request. Mr. Potter came bounding down from the platform, waving them up. Scorpius shot ahead of the others first.

“Mr. Potter, would you mind if I went last and casted alone?” he asked tersely, eyes darting to the Ravenclaw boy seated next to where he stood who was watching him. With a grin and a shrug, Mr. Potter agreed easily. He said it was always a better environment if the student was completely at ease. He clapped Scorpius on the shoulder.

“No need to fret over it. Took me half a year to get it right.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter.”   _When you were thirteen_. He really didn’t think that was an encouraging statement. The three others walked ahead of him, climbing onto the platform, not at all concerned with his odd request. Just as well, he didn’t feel like explaining himself. Even if everything he said would have been a lie. No one in that group managed even a stream of light.

All too soon, it was Scorpius’ turn. Everyone kept shooting him looks, talking amongst themselves. They were probably thinking the same thing his father had desperately wanted not to believe: that the son of a Death Eater couldn’t produce a patronus. Scorpius wasn’t anxious, he was just annoyed. These people had been around him for six years, and yet they couldn’t believe that he wasn’t the same boy his father had once been. They couldn’t believe that people could change. It was grating to his nerves, and would do nothing to help him cast the charm properly. As he went up onto the platform and faced Mr. Potter, he shook off those negative, harsh feelings. He rolled his neck and tried to focus.

“All right then Scorpius, let’s start with the basics. Show me the movement.” He and Mr. Potter went through the preliminaries, going through the process step by step, performing the same call and response he and his father had played out. _Undeniable proof_ , his father had repeated over and over again. Once Mr. Potter was satisfied with his arm movement, stance, and pronunciation, he hopped to sit up on a desk, blinking owlishly at Scorpius with a manic grin eerily similar to James’. It was an endearing quality, for sure, but his eyes were unnerving. They were Al’s eyes. He was propped up on the palms of his hands, kicking his feet like a bored schoolboy. Scorpius was no stranger to the Potter energy and enthusiasm, so Mr. Potter’s obvious enjoyment even at the end of an hour-long class of instructing was hardly surprising. Still, Scorpius couldn’t help but pick out elements of James and Al and Lily in their father. It soothed him.

“Well, I already know a good deal about you, Mr. Malfoy, but let’s make pretend for propriety’s sake, shall we?” Scorpius smiled. “Tell me some of your favorite memories as a child.” With a small shrug, Scorpius told him about growing up at Malfoy Place, Wizzy, his favorite spots in the house, time with his parents. He cut it off short though, skating over three years to his first time on the platform, about Sorting and their first week of school. Mostly about Al and the others. Mr. Potter was smiling and nodding like he was saying everything absolutely correct. Which he was, for the most part.

“Those are good memories,” Mr. Potter confirmed, but his gaze turned knowing, “But I think you’re skipping around something important.” Curse his interrogation skills. Scorpius fingered along the edge of his wand, following the grain and the rifts as easily as he would the lines in his palms.

“Could I maybe—Could I think about it without talking about it?” Scorpius asked quietly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. He knew that memories of Jacob marred his ability to cast the charm properly. But the memory that _did_ work was bound up in comparisons, the relief and the joy a sharp juxtaposition to his horror and abject grief. Mr. Potter straightened, looking at him differently than before.

“Are you sure you can hold onto it without encouragement?” Scorpius sighed; he wanted to keep up the ruse of his ignorance for as long as possible. Just for the sake of plausible deniability. He nodded. Mr. Potter nodded in response and jumped down from his perch, coming to stand behind Scorpius. “Close your eyes and focus solely on that memory. Take in as many details as you can. Was it raining? Was it sunny? Were you inside or outside? Did you smell something in particular? Look about and notice your surroundings, notice the landmarks, distinguishable features. Remember which one stood out the most? Good. Now play the memory.” Scorpius felt the wind in his face, wet dirt and blood in his nostrils, soft feathers cushioning his legs, a warm weight in his arms barely moving to breathe, coconut, and then total blackness. “Catch the feeling, bring it down into your chest.” Waking up. _She’s okay_. A warm cheek. Steady breathing. _Bugger_. Scorpius felt the breath catch in his throat, his chest felt tight. “Now say the spell, and then release.”  Scorpius didn’t hesitate. He recited the incantation easily and quietly.

_Expecto Patronum_

The feeling surged up from the pit of his belly, racing forward to his mouth and arm, his wand became an extension of himself.  He let it go. And as the light pushed forth from his wand, the hair on his neck and arms prickled and rose to attention. The stream of silvery light quickly took a ghostly shape; a lithe body, four legs, a swishing tail, a full mane of hair. As it bounded forward, surging and cantering around the room, Scorpius and Harry spun in turn, watching its progress. It barreled through a group of students and planted its paws firmly on the floor in front of the platform, facing its caster, shook its mane, and _roared_.

When Scorpius’ lion fizzled out, fading into the stone tiles, the silence occupying the room shattered with whispers and clapping. It _was_ impressive, even Scorpius had to admit. Mr. Potter turned back to Scorpius with a wry grin on his lips.

“I had wondered,” he admitted conversationally. “Especially since your father owled me with so many questions.”

“He—” Scorpius broke off, not knowing what to think. “He talked to you about it?”

Mr. Potter nodded, “About some of the finer points of instruction, yes. The best teaching methods. He had some questions about the lore that I had to ask Dennis Creevey about…He works in Mysteries, you know, and specializes in the patronus charm.”

“I didn’t know,” Scorpius said dumbly, not entirely certain who Mr. Creevey was.

“Well,” Mr. Potter finished, “Seems he worried for nothing.” Scorpius didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he waited while Mr. Potter dismissed the class, advising them to practice in a safe, comfortable place with plenty of chocolate at hand, and that he would be returning the month before exams to determine the progress and help them with last minute adjustments. Again, Scorpius lingered.

“Was there something else, Mr. Malfoy?” he asked kindly, eyes sparking with knowledge he shouldn’t have. Scorpius flinched internally, but tried to remain passive.

“I was wondering if you might not tell anyone about my form?” he started uncomfortably, “It’s not that I don’t want people to know…it’s—”

“You don’t want a _certain_ person to know?” he guessed too easily.

“Right.”

Mr. Potter smirked. “Rose, perhaps?”

Scorpius groaned softly, scrunching up his eyes in metaphysical agony. He recovered quickly. “I just don’t want to embarrass her, sir.”

“I would be more concerned about your classmates’ discretion than mine,” he shot back wryly. Oh, he’d thought about it.

“Ravenclaws are dead scared of her, sir. Not sure any of them would approach her directly, even with gossip.” Mr. Potter snorted in his amusement at his goddaughter’s reputation.  But at the look on Scorpius’ face, he sobered and put a comforting hand to his shoulder.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to, Scorpius. But I’ll tell you it’s a rare thing. And I only know of one other occasion when two people had complementary patronus forms.”

“Really?” Mr. Potter nodded. “Who?”

He smiled kindly at Scorpius, like the whole world was in his eyes, and told him meaningfully, “My parents.”

Scorpius was able to mull that morsel of information over by himself for three days. He honestly wished he’d found out about it from literally anyone else on the planet because the implications were downright mortifying. Anyone who knew anything about Tom Riddle’s rise to power and subsequent downfalls, knew about Lily and James Potter. Theirs was a treasured love story; a love rumored to be the strength behind their son’s triumph over the dark lord. They were embedded in the wizarding mythos in Britain, written about and referenced in everything from fiction to textbooks. They were the muggle Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, made all the more tragic because they didn’t choose to end their own lives and they’d left a baby son behind. Salt in the wound, their portrait at Grimmauld Place remained one of Scorpius’ favorites. That Mr. Potter, friends with someone who worked specifically on patronuses in the Department of Mysteries, knew only of the one other instance was disturbing. And Scorpius was even more desperate that Rose should never find out.

And while he kept expecting someone to bring it up, Al, James, Lily, even Donnie who might have heard from one of Ava’s friends, he wasn’t expecting it to come from Fred Weasley.

Fred found him in the owlery one morning a few days after the practicum. It was a complete coincidence. Scorpius had changed his mind last minute about a response to his mother. Fred was sending a quick note off to Louis, who was in France and would be out of touch for a while. They greeted each other cheerfully, informing the other on their respective letters. The Malfoys were constantly attempting to wrangle Scorpius into meeting cousins and distant relatives because they wanted him to find a suitable wife. At first, he’d agreed to their latest bribe for Christmas hols, but thought better of it and threatened to run to the Potters if they forced him. He saved that threat for very special occasions so that his father would take him seriously. Louis was trying to convince Fred to spend the summer with him in Nice to get work as a model. Fred, objectively speaking, was a beautiful male specimen, even Scorpius would agree, so there would be no shortage of work. Fred was hesitant though, he didn’t know how James would react. During their descent from the tower, when Scorpius began probing, Fred closed up, blushing furiously. His face pinched and he looked out over the grounds, not paying proper attention to the stairs under his feet.

“Aaron Davies told me that your patronus is a lion,” Fred informed him bluntly. Scorpius froze. Davies. He knew that name. Definitely a sixth year. Had to be a Ravenclaw. _Ugh_. That bloke sitting at the desk when he was talking to Mr. Potter. He’d almost been knocked over when Scorpius’ lion went running about the room. Son of a bitch. Scorpius reminded himself to breathe again and started walking, keeping his eyes averted.

“So?”

“Well…” Fred continued provokingly, “I heard you tell Frank the other day that you’d only gotten streaks. Then Al said he thought you could cast a full body. And then Aaron told me yours was a lion.”

“Since when do you talk to Ravenclaws that aren’t Lorc and Ly?”

“Let’s put a pin in that, yeah? Just tell me the truth.”

With a sigh, Scorpius stopped on the stair three above Fred and ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah, mine’s a lion. Got it last summer.” Fred fully turned to face him, scrutinizing him with his big, puppy dog eyes. He had those round shaped eyes that made you think he was always about to cry, but they were an earthy brown that glinted like fire whiskey in the light. They were the kind of eyes that poofy dead poets waxed lyrical about.

“So why’d you lie? Obviously you didn’t want people to know. Is it because Rose’s is a lioness?”

Scorpius scowled, rolling his head dramatically, “Yes, all right? I didn’t want people to…get ideas or whatever. Rose fancies that Nash bloke, I guess I didn’t want to embarrass her or put him off.”

“And that’s it?” Fred asked, looking shockingly disappointed. Scorpius frowned, but shrugged as a response. “Oh. Well I guess…” he broke off, looking out over the grounds again in a way that could only be described as brooding. “I guess I didn’t want to know something like that without you knowing I knew it.”

“Sporting of you.”

Fred winced, “I was also kind of hoping….” He broke off uncomfortably. “I need to—” Scorpius got a little frustrated.

“Fred whatever it is, just spit it out, I won’t tell a soul unless you say so.”

He bit his lip, chewing a little before he blurted out, “I’m gay.”

 _Oh_.  Scorpius felt his shoulders slump in relief.

“Is that all?” he asked, resuming their descent. He got a few steps ahead before he realized that Fred wasn’t following. He turned and looked up at his friend, who looked scandalized and dumbstruck, like someone had just hexed him with a freezing spell. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s all you say? Like it’s no big deal?!” Scorpius winced at his shrillness, realizing that he might have been a tad more sensitive and tactful, but honestly, he’d thought Fred was about to say something a little darker than his arbitrary decision that he preferred blokes to birds. He held out a placating hand.

“Okay, that’s my fault. Should’ve been more…something. Reactive, I don’t know,” he offered weakly.

“Thank you!”

“But first of all, it _isn’t a big deal_. I mean, congratulations for the self-awareness but it doesn’t really affect our friendship all that much does it?” He paused. “Even if you were about to blurt out that you fancy me—”

“I _don’t_ ,” Fred interposed, making Scorpius chuckle.

“Even if you _did_ , I’m not, so nothing between us changes.” He watched Fred shift his weight foot to foot, hands going to his hips.

“Really?”

“Really. I literally do not care, at all, who you pull. I do, however, reserve the right to veto someone if they’re a tosser because I’m not putting up with that for the rest of my life. We don’t need that kind of energy hanging around.”

“Oh,” Fred said dumbly.

“And even if you didn’t know about my patronus, I still wouldn’t tell anyone if you didn’t want. That shite’s personal and your secret to share.” It was Fred’s turn to wince.

“Sorry bout that. Aaron did tell me bout it though, and I was curious.”

Everything clicked in Scorpius’ brain, “So is Aaron...?”  Fred blushed.

“Yes? Sort of. I don’t know.”

“But James doesn’t know.”

“No.”

“And Louis..?”

“Does know. He thinks if I go to Nice I can meet someone and get…I don’t know, used to the idea or whatever.” Ah, that actually made sense. Louis was sort of the black sheep of the family. He was an athlete and an artist and violently opposed to privileges that came with his name. He wanted a reputation on his own terms, from his own work, so he’d left England not long after he graduated to work on his art. From what Scorpius could make out, and he could make out only a really very little, Louis sexual preferences swung in all directions. He only required another consenting adult (or two, if you believed what Molly said, though Scorpius generally didn’t because she was a notorious gossip). It made sense that Fred would go to Louis first. He wasn’t so much older, like Teddy, but he also wasn’t as close, like James. Not that Fred would meet a whole lot of negativity or rejection; he wasn’t sure what the limits were, but there wasn’t much that the Weasley-Potters wouldn’t accept or forgive. And Fred was still Fred, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. It seemed very simple to someone like Scorpius.

“Well I don’t know about Nice, but you should tell James at some point. He may be a little shocked at first, but he always comes around.” Fred looked skeptical. “He came around to me, didn’t he?”

“Are you suggesting that I’d need to punch Zabini in the face to get back in Jamie’s good graces?” Fred asked with a broad smirk on his lips. Scorpius scowled and whirled around to keep walking down the stairs.

“ _No_.”

“But I could—”

“No.”

“Spoilsport.”

*

Fred eventually did tell James before the end of term. And if you asked Scorpius, it was an overly sentimental, mawkish display on their part. James hadn’t reacted negatively at all, but hugged his best friend-cousin and sobbed that he was growing up too fast. According to Rose, they’d spent a good deal of time curled up on the couch together talking about their feelings. This was not surprising. The pair of them were closer than brothers, only now James loudly declared that they were doomed to be divided by his rampant heterosexuality, cursed to remain separated because he preferred tits and a different kind of hole. Evidently, their being cousins had no bearing on this. His friends spent a lot of time rolling their eyes and rubbing temples.

Fred must have been greatly encouraged by his reaction though, because the Weasley-Potters wrote Scorpius over hols, recounting how Fred had come out to his parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and remaining cousins all in one go. The whole thing had involved fireworks and tap dancing chickens, and Al repeatedly begged Scorpius to save him from the madness. Scorpius’ response was to visit after New Year’s (having gleefully avoided all major family functions except the ones he counted important). But soon enough they were back at school and in the thick of things, and everyone was properly harried about upcoming exams.

Their third day back, Scorpius found Lily and Hugo working in the library. Lily was furiously marking up some parchment, while Hugo looked completely exasperated. When the younger boy caught sight of Scorpius, he raised his hands to the heavens in sincere gratitude.

“Thank _Merlin_ ,” the youngest Weasley gushed, throwing his books into his bag carelessly. Lily glared at him, but that didn’t slow him down at all. Looking harried, he met Scorpius just in front of the table. “She was fine this morning. Now she’s gone mental. _You_ talk to her.” And with that Hugo Weasley was skipping off to greener pastures. He and Lily may have been thicker than thieves most of the time, but Hugo insisted that he was not qualified to handle her high strung moods. He fobbed her off on Scorpius whenever possible. James and Fred laughingly called him the “Li Lu Whisperer.” Scorpius thought they were all prats and Lily just needed a sympathetic ear.

Scorpius slid into the chair next to her while Lily shot a lethal stare in the direction of her cousin’s exit. Instead of talking right away or asking what was wrong, he just pulled out his own books. He was supposed to meet Al, Frank, and Donnie, and Rose would probably be along soon enough. Seventh year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had Transfiguration together, so that lot would show up too.  In the meantime, he would sit with Lily until she was ready to talk. And it was several long minutes before that happened. Lily, like her brothers, was notoriously stubborn. She could be bleeding out and insist she was just fine if someone was trying to order her about. Absurd, but true. So Scorpius was moderately relieved when the girl let out a pathetic groan and dropped her forehead to his shoulder, rolling it in a pseudo-massage.

“So Hugo wasn’t entirely wrong I take?”

“Hugo’s a punk,” she mumbled into his robes, making him laugh. Always so eloquent, little Li Lu. With a heavy sigh she sat up straight and then slumped in her chair again. “It’s a boy.”

“Merlin, Lily, didn’t know you were up the duff, congratulations.”

“Can you at least try to be sympathetic right now?”

“ _Lily_.”

“ _I know_ ,” she groaned out in a whine, “But it’s soooo much worse this time, Hype. So. Much. Worse.” She let her head tip back. Lily was the only person who referred to him by his middle name, Hyperion, and he was the only one he let get away with it. What’s more, she didn’t use it that often, mostly when she was stressed. And Lily didn’t get stressed very often. Her biggest problem was that she was a bit wild, or more precisely uninhibited. She was a dreamy kid with a sharp tongue and a laugh on her lips. She was cunning and deceptive, but very emotive, and she felt things very deeply. As a result, Lily was almost constantly crushing on some bloke, adult, or portrait. Yes, the portraits too. Scorpius had vivid memories of her crying as she confessed having feelings for the subject of a portrait on the fifth floor, and she was so _embarrassed_. The worst ones were her older cousin’s friends, and occasionally their boyfriends. She wrote to him about the particularly catastrophic event involving Domi’s previous boyfriend last Christmas. Adolescence was a persistent minefield for a girl like Lily Potter.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked gently, resting his chin on his hand to look longer at her. There was a commotion at the main entrance, and James, Fred, Lorcan, Lysander, Frank, Al, and Donnie tumbled through the door, jostling a red faced Rose between them. While she made faces at one, another tugged her hair or swiped her bag. The bag was being passed around, Fred taking her quill, Frank some extra parchment he needed, Donnie took a textbook. Rose kept hissing at them, trying not to attract Madame Pince’s attention, and tried snatching her things back only to realize they’d taken something else. Al was the only one not participating in this scheme, generously handing Rose back her things as they were given to him for safekeeping. So Al spotted Scorpius sitting with Lily first, and at Scorpius’ sharp head shake, steered the rambunctious, oblivious group in the opposite direction. But even as they walked, Scorpius noticed that Lily’s pathetic-puppy dog gaze followed them.

“Oh _shite_ ,” Scorpius breathed.

“What?” she squeaked, jumping in her seat.

“It’s one of _them_ , isn’t it? One of _us_?” he finished in a shrill whisper, scooching his seat closer to her so that he could angle himself to see his group of friends. James, Al, Fred, and Rose (Lily had never expressed an interest in girls and she _had_ explicitly said _boy_ ) were automatically out. Though, crushing on your brother or cousin _would_ be considerably disastrous. That left Donnie, who was hardcore dating Ava as of last year, Frank, Lorcan, and Lysander. He scratched out Donnie because Lily had certain types and Donnie didn’t seem to fit those criteria. He also took Lorcan off the list because Lily preferred more cerebral types, and while Lorcan was certainly clever, he was definitely more hands-on. Lysander could be a difficult crush because of how close he was to James. Frank could be so much worse because Lily’s best friend was Allie Longbottom. And Frank was one of Al’s best friends.

“So is it Frank or Lysander?”

She thwacked him on the shoulder, “ _Shut it_ , would you? Someone might hear you!”

“But I’m right aren’t I? It’s one of those two.”  Lily rolled her eyes and theatrically dropped her head to the table. Always the drama with this one. But he knew he was right, and while he knew Frank would be the worse choice, he was leaning toward Lysander.

“Do you have to be so clever all the damn time? Can you not, I don’t know, flake out and pretend to be normal like the rest of us for a minute?”

“First off, _ouch_. You know I have no control over my cerebral prowess. Second, just spit it out, Potter. I swear it’s gotta be a Weasley gene that makes you all so bloody melodramatic.”

“It’s—!” she cut herself off, lowering her voice and shooting a wary look in the group’s direction. “You are right,” she hissed through her teeth. “It’s Lysander, okay?” He raised a clenched fist in victory, silently celebrating his mental capability. Lily shoved him. “You’re such a berk!”

“Miss Potter!”

“Sorry Madame!” she shouted back and then turned back to Scorpius. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Maybe not, but I hate me right now.”

“Oh, so you have a crush on Ly, big deal.”

“No. Hype. It’s been _months_.”

“Months?”

“Months,” she confirmed gravely. That was surprising. Lily’s crushes never lasted a week. “And then he told me something at Christmas and now I’m just miserable.”

“Merlin’s balls, Weasley-Potter Christmases are eventful.”

“He fancies _Rose_ ,” Lily informed him glumly. And Scorpius’ entertainment immediately switched gears into sympathy.

“Oh Li Lu…”

“Don’t you _Oh Li Lu_ me, Scorpius Hyperion!” she snapped. “I don’t need your pity.” She finished her declaration with a grumble and then leaned into his side. Lily really never could stay mad at him.

“I don’t pity you, I just think he’s stupid,” he mumbled back. He thought a lot of people were stupid, trying to pit Rose and Lily against each other. Both girls were pretty, both had red hair and glass colored eyes, they were clever and athletic, and very opinionated. They just operated differently. Rose liked playing within the bounds of the rules, Lily liked subverting the rules. Rose was all morals and bright optimism, while Lily was sharp criticism and cynicism. Rose was all fire, Lily was all ice; both of them beautiful and destructive in their own ways. Rose had the mind of a hero, Lily had the mind of a criminal. Somehow they got along famously and were close without denigrating one another. And Scorpius was a little in awe of how Lily handled Rose; it was almost effortless on her part, but Lily smoothed down her cousin’s feathers efficiently whenever necessary. Al did a pretty good job of it, but there was something about _sisters_ , Scorpius often thought. There was some female wavelength where Lily met Rose, no problem, and Scorpius was always curious about how to tap into it. Lily just handled her so flawlessly, to the point that they essentially never argued. A damn near impossible feat when it came to Rose. Scorpius was more than a little jealous.

“Rose is brilliant,” Lily protested wetly. And it spoke volumes that she could say that right then, about both her and about Rose.

“Yes, she is, but so are you. She would agree with me. And if Lysander can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you anyway. And Rose would agree with that too.”

She sniffed, “Yeah.”

He roughly rubbed her shoulder, “Let’s go over there, yeah? Nothing like a bunch of gits to cheer you up.”

“Just a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, settling back against his chair, arm around her, “Just a minute.”

*

One night a couple months later, Scorpius was making his way to the kitchens. Sellie was supposed to be dropping by with some of his things from home and the crumb cake that he loved so much but they never made at school. So yeah, he had a little extra pep in his step. It helped loads that he’d finished the big Transfiguration essay the week before while the others were holed up in the library grousing their bad luck. Except for Al. Al was there willingly and promised Scorpius he’d meet him in the kitchens in an hour. He was on his way to pass through the Great Hall to the Hufflepuff staircase when he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye off an alcove of the Entrance Hall.

Was seeing a flash of red around school all that uncommon? No. There were a half dozen red headed Weasleys running around. Not to mention, Gryffindors were absolutely obnoxious in their house pride. However, this particular flash of red was a red that was permanently burned into his brain, a red he’d seen tucked under a giant’s waistcoat, a red that lay lifeless against the forest floor. So he took a few steps backward until the alcove was again in full view. When he stopped walking, he heard the loud sniff. Damn. She was crying. With a sigh, Scorpius shoved his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel to go in.

Rose looked up slowly as he approached, eyes rimmed red, and he met her gaze steadily as he leaned against the nearby pillar. She was sitting on a bench near a window with enchanted stained glass, much like the one in the prefect’s bathroom (which he knew because he and Al had used the Map to break in after wheedling the password out of Rose). The centaurs depicted were chasing down mountain trolls who didn’t appear to be overly impressed. Since their conversation in the Forest, feeding the thestrals, Scorpius had decided that she was a little less annoying than he thought, and the idea of being friends wasn’t so terrible. He also realized that he quite liked Rose Weasley when she wasn’t constantly jumping down his throat and hurling insults at him. They had a lot of similar interests, read a lot of the same books.

So he tried for a little patience. Tried to tone down the sarcasm (a little, honestly, because being a Malfoy meant never relinquishing the snide commentary). And, miraculously, she’d become less vitriolic. They as still argued all of the time, naturally, but it never got quite as nasty as before. She was more interested in his actual opinions than in trying to belittle him. As a result, he stopped going out of his way to provoke her, because it was stupidly easy, and took most of her arguing seriously. Instead, he tried to respond sincerely. It was…nice. So seeing her very obviously upset churned his stomach, and he had the unreasonable urge to hex someone.

“I…” she said abortively. “Didn’t realize anyone would be around here.” Which was a fair assessment, dinner was two hours over and curfew was quickly approaching. Anyone not in bed or in their common room was in the library, detention, or infirmary, not wandering the main halls of the castle. He tilted his head.

“I was on my way to the kitchens. Sellie is dropping by.”

“Oh,” she breathed softly looking down at her hands which were wrapped in her robes. Obviously, she hadn’t been expecting to be caught out crying. Certainly not by him. Working his jaw, Scorpius pushed off the wall, and went to sit next to her. He reached into the inner pockets of his school robes and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to her. Brows deeply furrowed, she eyed it warily and took it.

“A handkerchief? Are you from the 30s?” she asked derisively. Scorpius laughed, not taking the bait.

“Yes, well, Sellie and the others tend to…”

“Spoil you?” she offered, fingering the neatly trimmed edges. That particular hanky was from Wizzy, who had died not long after Scorpius had left for school. It was one of his favorites. One he’d often used as a bookmark.

“I suppose you would see it that way,” he said thoughtfully.

“And why is that?”

“Because your family only has the one elf, who your uncle freed ages ago, and you had plenty of playmates as a child. I, however, did not. I had the elves for company. What you see as spoiling is their way of showing friendship.”

“Oh,” she repeated.

“They make me hankies and socks and scarves and…a hundred other things. I talk to them about their lives and who’s gossiping too much and shield them from my mad relatives.” She still hadn’t actually used the handkerchief, was just staring at it. And he was surprised she wasn’t making snappish retorts; everyone knew her mother’s stance on wizards keeping house elves. “You can actually use that, you know. Sellie will clean it. She’s a genius, she is.” For the first time since he’d arrived, Rose cracked a small smile. Well, some success then.

“I couldn’t,” she said gently, handing it back to him. “It’s too pretty.” He held the crumpled linen in his hand, thumbing the silver, black, and green Malfoy crest fondly. Wizzy had been such a love. Completely devoted to his father, and to Scorpius, as a result. He’d taken care of Draco Malfoy as a baby and helped Scorpius’ mum quite a lot when Scorpius was born. He had a dozen more hankies just like it in his trunk, but this had been the first one Wizzy ever gave him. With a sigh, Scorpius returned it to his pocket and clapped his hands to his knees. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was ask her why she was crying. For one, it could be something absolutely barmy and he didn’t want to upset her with his reaction. For another, it could be something the opposite of barmy and he was sure that he would hex someone for it. Either way, he was going to lose in this scenario.

“Have you decided if you’re going to ask me why I’ve been crying yet?” He laughed, feeling the tension dissipate. Leave it to Rose to be direct even when she felt (and looked) like shite.

“No. Not really.”

She sniffed, “Well don’t worry. It’s stupid anyway.”

 _Thank Merlin_.

“Duncan cheated on me. Is cheating on me? Not sure.” Scorpius hung his head. “Oh _please_ don’t do that,” he could hear the scowl in her voice. “That macho, now I’ve gotta hex somebody bit where you get all huffy and defensive of my honor.”

“But you two have only been together since what? End of last term?”

“Christmas,” she grumbled in confirmation, making him wince. It was February, well past Valentine’s. He must have thought it would be a dick move to break up with someone around that specific holiday. “He decided that he liked Sarah Kent…better? Too? I don’t know.”

“That’s so shitty.”

“I mean…I get it, right? I know I’m not _Lily_ —” Merlin’s sagging left bollock, the pair of them were going to drive him mad.

“Don’t be stupid, Rose. Him cheating is _shitty_.”

“Yeah,” she drew her sleeve across her mouth, “Just spotted them on the fifth floor an hour ago.”

“Map?” he guessed.

“Map.” She thunked her head back against the wall. “I thought it was just him doing patrols, so I was gonna go surprise him. But by the time I got there he was following her into an empty classroom.”

“Rose, I’m so—”

“Sorry,” she interrupted gruffly. “Yeah, I get it, but not from you, okay? The second everyone finds out, I’m going to have a dozen people in my face and angry on my behalf and asking how I’m doing. Besides, having you pity me makes me feel pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic. I don’t pity you. And it’s not stupid that you’re upset about it.”     

Her head swiveled so she could meet his gaze. Her eyes glittered like polished lazulite, hard and glinting in the candlelight. And yes, he’d seen her eyes on thousands of occasions since, but Scorpius was struck by how they looked exactly the same as they had in the hospital wing in third year. Her mouth looked ready to argue, and he could see heat rising in her cheeks. But she was sitting stiffly, hands clenched in her robes. Not like her to hold back.

“Everyone says that I could do better than Duncan. That he’s plain-looking and not very clever. And everyone tells me that I’m both pretty _and_ clever. So if that’s all true, then I have to be…deficient somehow for him to cheat.”

“Rose—” But she waved him off, looking back down at her hands again.  

“I waited a minute and followed them into that classroom. I didn’t even think about it, really. Didn’t know what I expected to happen…” Scorpius froze, and he felt his chest tighten.

“What the hell did he say to you?” he gritted out. She looked so small right then, and he could see the tears slipping from her eyes before she batted them away and inhaled sharply through her nose. It was odd, but instead of focusing on the crying or how awful she looked, Scorpius fixated on the dark freckle on her temple. It vaguely resembled a diamond, a round one though.

“He said I was obsessed with trying to be perfect. That I was—that I’m…He said I’m frigid. And mean.” She sniffed wetly, voice darkening. “Which is true.” Her voice flattened out. “I’m awful and selfish and I push people away—” Scorpius couldn’t listen to another word.

“Oh _fuck that_!” She snapped her gaze wildly back up to his, astonished. Probably because he was fairly well known for keeping the cursing to a minimum. Polite society and civilized conversation and all that. “And fuck him, at that. You are the most annoyingly emotional person I’ve ever met in my life. That doesn’t make you _mean,_ it makes you opinionated. And has he _met_ your bloody family? They’re all so effortlessly talented and one of them is always in the papers. _Of course_ you’re going to try to be perfect, that’s a hell of a lot of pressure! What does he want for you to drop out of school and run off with gypsies? Fuck him. And for another thing, if you’re selfish it’s because you’ve probably got to share everything and don’t have a damn ounce of privacy ever. And if you push people away it’s because you’ve got talent and ambition and better things to do than add yet _another_ name to the stupidly long list of people you’re supposed to regularly give a damn about. So forgive me, but he’s an utter twat without a stretch of spine or an ounce of sense otherwise he would have realized that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I almost feel sorry for the bastard because as of today, he’s already on the descent. He peaked. He’s finished. _Fuck him._ ”

When he finished, Rose was gaping at him, eyes wide in shock. It was the first time since he’d met her that she was completely silent, with the exception of when she was unconscious. Scorpius decided to take advantage of it. He stood and held his hand out to her.

“Now, we’re going to the kitchens because Sellie’s bringing her famous crumb cake and we’re going to eat all of it before Al gets there to punish him for being such a swot. And you’re going to tell me every stupid, asinine thing that berk has ever done until you realize that he cheated because he’s an incomparable arse, and not because of anything to do with you.”

Still gaping, Rose wordlessly took his hand and allowed herself to be led to the kitchens were Sellie was indeed waiting with crumb cake. Al joined them not twenty minutes later to find them laughing about the fact that Duncan Nash was infamous among the Hogwarts house elves because they all refused to wash his socks due to the smell, which was unprecedented in the school’s history.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventh Year

_I only see my goals, I don't believe in failure_

_'Cause I know the smallest voices, they can make it major_

 

Scorpius was _excited_. He reread the letter in his hands for the hundredth time. It had arrived four days ago and he’d yet to tell anyone about it. The letter contained the one word he needed for his future: _yes_. The American Institute of Magical Education in Chicago, Illinois had accepted his application for a fellowship to do research on teaching methods regarding muggle treatment in magical history as well as the development of Defence practicals in magical education, and how the two corresponded. It was an amazing job, a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he had no intention of tuning it down.

The problem was that there was a large part of him that wanted to keep it all to himself, to revel in it for a while. This was his moment, his achievement, something that he’d done all on his own. It was validation in its purest form. The things _he_ wanted, the things _he’d_ worked for, were becoming a realized condition. It was a selfish impulse. A smaller part of him wanted to share it. Wanted someone else to be excited for him and proud of him. So after four days of keeping it a secret, he went in search of his best friend.

They were two weeks to graduation and Al, as usual, was in the library. He was still completely absorbed in exams, wanting so desperately to come out with perfect scores. Al had an application for an internship with the French embassy still pending and dependent upon his final scores. “Obsessed” was putting it lightly. Rose and Scorpius had started alternating “Al-sitting” schedules, to make sure someone was with him for most of the day. He was supremely neglectful of nutrition and sleep requirements. Donnie and Frank did the best they could, but since they were Hufflepuffs, their schedules were pretty different from Slytherin. Scorpius had him during the day, Rose had him most nights. It was an exhausting experience.

So, Scorpius wasn’t really surprised to see Al taking furious notes from several textbooks, while Rose was reading and listening to music from her muggle headphones. She, too, was studying night and day for NEWTs, but, in her own words, _wasn’t a fucking psycho_ and _needed a goddamn break on occasion_. Scorpius felt the same way; he performed better when he was well rested and relaxed. But he had to admit, Rose Weasley turned exam relaxation into an art form. Everyone was woefully unprepared and exceptionally distressed, and then there was Rose, so completely confident in her ability to perform that she was currently bugging out over a new muggle band she was consumed by. Scorpius was the only one who didn’t envy that she completely took for granted her own success. Because in that, they were so similar. Scorpius had never even thought for a second that he wouldn’t get the fellowship. Did he have alternate plans? Of course. But this was what he _wanted_ and it wanted him right back.

Chuckling silently, he slid into the seat next to Al, who was so focused on his reading that he didn’t notice. Scorpius inhaled slowly and held his breath, lifting his hands over Al’s shoulders, before dropping them and gripping his friend’s muscles tightly. Al yelped and jumped so bad that he almost knocked his chair back.

Scorpius and Rose burst into unrepentant laughter, pretty much ignoring everyone’s protests at their volume. Al was livid, glaring and grumbling at them both for being terrible people and ruining his life.

“Mate,” Scorpius said clapping him on the back, “You’ve got to relax. You’re so tight right now a good flick would shatter you to bits.”  

“Ha, ha, ha,” Al said disdainfully, “I’m so glad you’ve got the brains and the temperament to _chill_ before exams, but this is—!”

“ _My life_ ,” Scorpius and Rose finished in tandem, clapping him on the shoulders. He shot them both pinched looks, absolutely done with their shite.

“Don’t shoot the owl, Albie,” Scorpius teased. “Besides, I came to interrupt your mania for a good reason.”

“You’re moving to Antarctica to freeze your bollocks off and leave me in peace?” Al asked drolly, gesturing with his pen.

Scorpius let out a bark of laughter, too happy to even fight with him. “Sort of.” Al’s face dropped, his expression completely blank like he’d just been hit with a stunner.

“ _Merlin_ ,” he whispered at the sight of his best friend’s wide smile, “American Institute?” Scorpius grinned, nodding slightly. “ _FUCKING BLOODY HELL!_ ” Al shouted, jumping from his chair so violently that his chair went back flying. He hardly noticed because he launched himself at Scorpius, tackling him for a hug. The young Potter was babbling about how happy and excited he was, how _amazing and brilliant_ he would be. Scorpius was so taken aback but relieved by his reaction that he was laughing too. They were getting yelled at for being loud, but Al didn’t care.

“Shut it you vile wankers! My best mate got a fellowship in bloody fucking _America_! WHO _oo_!” Their celebrations were interrupted by Rose.

“Wait…what?” she asked quietly. It was enough to quiet and sober the both of them to a normal volume.

“Ehm,” Scorpius coughed, clearing his throat and trying to ignore his full-body blush at Al’s exuberance. He pulled the folded letter from his pocket, handing it to her. “Here.” Al fell back to his chair, running both hands through his hair roughly. Scorpius took the seat across from him, watching as Rose’s brow furrowed and her frown deepened with every word she read.

“This is dated four days ago…” she murmured distractedly. Al’s grin didn’t falter, he just slapped the table, grabbing Scorpius’ hands to shake them.

“Bastard needed to process! Gah, mate, I’m so bloody chuffed.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Scorpius teased facetiously. “I mean honestly, you’ve been so reserved.” Al kicked out at him, and leaned back in his chair, looking really relaxed for the first time in a long while. Scorpius was surprised to see that deep of a reaction from him, surprised that it seemed to dissipate his stress. Had he been worried about it? Did Al worry about him like that? He couldn’t just _ask,_ but he could be grateful to have such a dedicated friend. But Rose? He chanced a look over at her, concerned about her silence. He knew she was a direct admit into the Auror training program, though they were placing a hold contingent upon her final scores as well. Regardless, everyone assumed that Head Auror Potter would admit his own goddaughter into the program. So he was at a loss to explain the stricken look on her face, her sudden paleness.

“Weasley?” he tried, tentatively probing. Al shot him a look, obviously concerned too. They watched her visibly shake herself from her stupor, letting the letter drop from her hands onto the table.

“You never said anything to me about this,” she told him, lifting her bright blue eyes to his. Hadn’t he? Maybe he hadn’t. It was something so close and so personal to him that he wasn’t sure that anyone other than his parents, Professor Longbottom, and Al. He hadn’t even talked to Donnie and Frank about it (Frank was so fixated on his Runes project and Donnie was planning a sodding _wedding_ of all things, so it wasn’t as if they had real opportunities). But everyone knew he was planning to go abroad to do research.

“I—might not have?” he tested out, but it felt hollow and he knew it. Sixth year had gone a long way to bridging the gap between them. He’d stopped trying so hard to avoid her. She stopped getting (quite) so angry at his snarky commentary. They still bickered and thoroughly aggravated each other, but they were…friendly. And even to Scorpius it rang odd that he hadn’t mentioned anything specific about Chicago to her. She waved the letter.

“ _This_ says you’re supposed to be there in three weeks. So what?” she snapped, “If I wasn’t sitting right here right now, you would’ve left without saying anything? _Oh yeah, sorry Rose, can’t meet you in Diagon, I’m in bloody fucking America_!” He was startled by her low sharpness, the way she was seething at him.

“Of course I would have—!” She didn’t wait for an explanation. She got up from the table, tossing the letter and storming furiously from the library. “Come on! Rose!” he called after her. He looked helplessly at Al who, with a rueful shake of his head, tossed him the Map.

“I don’t know, mate. Go after her.”

Scorpius didn’t need to be told twice. Snatching the parchment from the table, he went to follow her trail. Unfortunately, all the parasitic first years were swarming the corridors because their exams were in the mornings, so they had free afternoons while the upperclassmen took their exams. Rose had disappeared into the masses. Damn, he’d forgotten how fast she was. It didn’t help that she was so _short_. Scorpius ducked into a side corridor, tapping the Map with his wand and reciting the password. The parchment flooded with ink, showing him where everyone was, and his eyes scanned his surroundings for her name. Nothing.

Stupid fucking passageways. She’d probably ducked into the house elf stairwell behind the portrait of the Mad Centaur. It screeched at him as he pulled it open to dash up the stairs, checking the Map again as he went. He spotted her on the Map, ducking into the art room. Not the first place he would have looked, so a solid choice. He decided to hold back for a minute, to give her a moment alone without being harassed. Even though he had absolutely no idea why she was reacting so strongly to his news. Portkeys were ridiculously cheap anymore, and almost half of their class was going abroad in one way or another. London wasn’t the center of the wizarding world after all, it just felt that way most of the time.

Actually, as a part of Auror training, all trainees were required to do a rotation with another country’s law enforcement. It was an exchange program Mr. Potter had started after a long conversation with his sister-in-law, Fleur Weasley, and their mutual friend, Viktor Krum. Krum, retired from Quidditch had taken up with Bulgaria’s magical law enforcement not long after the war. Rose would probably end up in Sofia for three to five months within the next couple of years, seeing as her parents were good friends of the Krums. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and lumbered inside. This was going to be painful, he was sure of it.

“Room’s taken,” Rose barked out from where she stood, looking out the window. _Now_ he remembered why she would choose the art room. On the fifth floor, it had the perfect view of the Forest. Al told him that she would go up there to escape her cousins, seeing as Louis and Molly were the only ones with artistic bones and none of the others would ever have any reason to go in there. He’d said she liked to brood about the Forest in peace with an unobstructed view, and that everyone and their kneazle went up to the seventh floor to stare broodingly out windows. Al was joking at the time, but he wasn’t exaggerating. Rose was hardcore brooding in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

“Sure,” he said smoothly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “But you probably should have made sure Al didn’t have the Map if you didn’t want me to follow you.” She’d whirled around angrily at the sound of his voice, arms crossed and eyes red. Was she crying? “Rose..?” he said impulsively taking a step toward her. She pulled back.

“Don’t.” He held his hands up in defeat, keeping the distance between them. He didn’t like it, but she was clearly in no mood to be comforted.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I honestly didn’t think you’d—”

“What _care_?” she sneered viciously. It was like she’d pulled the air right out of him.

“ _No_ ,” he argued, taking a decisive step toward her now. “I didn’t think you’d react so…intensely. I’ve been talking about doing research in America for years.”

He watched her inhale deeply, chest rising as she filled her belly. “I know,” she answered weakly. So he took another step as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

“Okay, so, what is this?” By _this_ he was referring to all of it; her reaction, her running off, her crying. They were friends. Good friends. He knew her schedule, what her girlfriends were all whining about, which bands she was enamored with, her goals for Auror training. He knew that her father was ecstatic about Rose graduating and starting a career, and that her mother was anxious and terrified, nitpicking at every little detail. He knew that she was worried about Hugo and Lily and not being able to see them, that she was _raring_ for Lucy’s wedding that summer because she would finally be of age at a Weasley bash. He knew that her gran was sick, but that she liked spending Sundays at the Burrow but felt obligated to go see her Granny Jean just in case. And that she felt ridiculously guilty for thinking about it that way.

 _And_ right then, he realized why she might be a little upset.

“I just—”

He waved her off, “Nope, no, it’s my fault. I really should have told you. I was just anxious and I was trying not to think about it too much. And Al’s just so used to hearing my internal rambling—” He cut himself off at the absolutely forlorn look on her face. He’d never seen her look at him like that. Never seen her like that _period_.

 “What the bloody hell is in America that you can’t find in Britain?” she demanded in a harsh whisper. He recoiled, affronted by her coldness. That stubbornness in him, that defensiveness, the need to make his case rose up in him. It was like bile, word vomit, a forcible expulsion of words from his lungs.

“Bigger institutions! Different systems! Programs dedicated to reshaping the way we think about teaching! Getting away from my sodding _name_!” he insisted, gesticulating broadly.

“You could find that here, you could do all of that _here_.” He bit back a growl, feeling his nostrils flare out. Out of anyone, he thought _she_ would understand that. That she would get it. Obviously he was wrong, obviously they weren’t even speaking the same bloody language anymore. What was she playing at?

“You know _damn well_ that I can’t,” he snapped harshly. “What is this, Weasley?                Why are you suddenly up in arms about my plans for next year? This is what I’ve been working for. This is what I want. If you were even a little bit my friend, then you’d be excited for me. It’s not like it was easy getting that fellowship.”

“I don’t understand what’s so fucking great about the bloody fucking _colonies_!” she screamed at him.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so upset!”

“Because I love you, you stupid fucking prick!”

She stormed past him and out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the empty classroom full of empty easels as the last rays of sunlight clawed in through the window, mocking him. Shocked to the bone, he stayed rooted in that spot, and had an odd sense of déjà vu: thirteen years old, believing that a girl with wild red hair and a sharp tongue had vanished from his sight, gone somewhere he couldn’t follow.

 Scorpius wouldn’t see or speak to Rose Weasley again for another three years.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One to Two Years Later

_I got my boys with me, at least those in favor_

 

Chicago was nearly as amazing as Scorpius had expected it to be. His parents were thrilled to death about his position and had acquired an apartment for him there as a graduation gift. His father insisted that his focus should be on his research, not paying bills. For the first time in his life, Scorpius felt incredibly grateful for his family’s deep vaults and his father’s overbearing parenting techniques. The Institute was _brilliant_. Some of the best minds in North America had flocked to contribute to his study, offering him a wealth of resources and information that he never would have had access to in Britain. Everyone was friendly and enthusiastic, but devoted to the work and willing to invest in it fully. The atmosphere was extremely competitive. People left all of the time because they couldn’t keep up. Tempers ran hot and high, and if you couldn’t hold your ground with the tenured professors, you wouldn’t make any progress.

Scorpius _thrived_. He loved nothing more than getting into a good debate with witches and wizards with decades of experience on him. They liked to push and prod at Scorpius’ ideas until he was back and square one, but so invigorated and inspired that he bolted down a new path with ease. His superiors enjoyed his easy nature and insightfulness. They liked his pureblood perspective and his hunger to know and to understand.

It was often the case that muggleborns and halfbloods took things for granted when placing muggle history into the context of wizarding culture. Panic, violent revolutions, and prolific war provoked more practical, on the fly, Defence techniques, just as gun sales in the muggle world increased as violent crime increased. Those with muggle parentage knew these things, of course, but often missed patterns. Regardless, their expertise and knowledge was vital to Scorpius’ work and he often spent most of his days discussing and researching muggle topics instead of dealing with anything related to magical education. Luckily, he had four partners in the study who were more than willing to coordinate and pick up where he left slack. The work was brilliant and he loved it.

Chicago itself was an amazing city. He was often impressed with muggles and their technology, how they made everything work, the things they let deteriorate. After eight months though, Scorpius realized he hadn’t exactly made “friends.” Not like his school friends, anyway. And that he usually found himself wandering the city at night instead of sitting alone in his flat.

The boys and his parents visited, though never at the same time. His parents came every other Sunday, since his father had retired and sold his company. They were travelling a lot, and even visited Al at his post in France. Mr. Malfoy was extremely impressed with the doors Al was opening for himself, the people he was coming into contact with. Naturally, there was not a diplomat abroad who didn’t want to meet the son of the famous Harry Potter.

He and Al wrote constantly, describing as much as they could between visits. The separation was brutal. Here they’d roomed together for seven years and now they were living on different continents. Al loved Paris, though, and Domi and Louis visited him quite often. James and Fred wrote when they weren’t bogged down in paperwork. James moaned long and loud about the fact that he wrote more notes as an auror than he ever did in school, and that the second he had accrued enough time off, he was popping over for a visit. Fred complained about how much James was complaining and insisted that Scorpius let him know when James wanted to visit so _he_ could schedule his visit for a different time. There were some people who needed a little separation, Scorpius thought to himself ruefully, and those particular cousins were among them.

Donnie got married, with Frank as his best man. Scorpius had managed to get a couple of days off for the ceremony and party. He ignored his sharp disappointment when one specific redhead wasn’t among the brood in attendance. Ava was as stunning as ever and always added on postscripts to Donnie’s letters telling him to come home for a visit and to send her postcards. Frank was blazing through his contract in Egypt, but in his letters he kept insisting that the country was _tired_. Almost every cursebreaker on the books spent time in Egypt, and Frank was raring to dive into temples and monuments in Southeast Asia and Indonesia, where he’d done his original training. He was convinced that island temples were where the real money was. According to his research, a good many European wizards had stolen treasure from indigenous groups, muggles, and anyone else in their way, and stashed them among Island Peoples, claiming to be gods so that the muggle tribes would protect the treasure ruthlessly. It certainly worked, and Frank was at the forefront of discovering it.

Scorpius heard from the Scamanders the least because they travelled even more than Frank and were more scatterbrained than James. Last he heard they were tracking a phoenix in Russia, hoping to gather more information on its anatomy, life cycle, and age markers. Absolute nutters. Not as bad as their mother, but nutty nonetheless. Lily was an absolute miracle, sending him care packages and keeping him updated on all of the family drama, completely unfiltered. She effortlessly had tabs on everyone, keeping Scorpius well-informed. Much like her namesake, she’d been brilliant in Potions and had secured a position with a Potioneering firm months before she graduated. Scorpius had never been prouder of someone in his life.

*

Two years into his study, Scorpius was up early in his flat, taking his tea and trying to figure out how to respond to a note from one of his colleagues. Willa was a terrific girl, clever and fit, and he knew most blokes would cut off their wand arm to go out with her. Because that’s what she was doing, asking him to dinner. It sounded casual and roundabout, but considering that Scorpius spent almost no time with his peers outside of campus, a dinner invitation was an overt request. There was no sound reason for him not to accept. Before leaving Hogwarts, he’d dated a handful of girls, some for several months. One even met his parents.

And there he was, single, alone in a city he’d yet to immerse himself in, with a perfectly good offer and he was just staring at it like the bloody parchment would burst into flames at any given second. Like he said, Willa was a terrific girl, and she was easy enough to talk to. But, in the two years he’d known her, she didn’t push him. She didn’t challenge him. She never got under his skin. She never made him so crazy that he wanted to rip his hair out or made him laugh so hard that his whole body ached. Willa had straight black hair and whiskey brown eyes and her skin was a bronzy terra cotta. Her hair wasn’t red and wild, and her eyes didn’t remind him of the rich minerals, and she didn’t have a brown freckle on her right temple.

With a growl, he binned the note and wrote out a terse reply that he was focused on work and he would see her on campus. It was polite and direct, but he couldn’t help but wonder how she would respond to the rejection. Hopefully, like a sane person who enjoyed the easy atmosphere of her workplace. Just as he was handing off the note to his owl, Elora, there was a whoosh and a pop, and Scorpius spun in his chair to be greeted with the sight of Albus Potter in preppy muggle clothes. His hair was shorter and his on denims were tighter around the ankle. He wore gray Converse and a blue button up with a gray cardigan.

“Are all the interns dressing like Liverpool poofs now?” he teased, smiling brightly when Al caught sight of him and barreled forward for a hug. They embraced warmly, telling each other they looked terrible and clapping the other on the back and shoulders. Al declared that he was _famished_ and if he wasn’t taken to a muggle pizza place that instant he would perish on the spot. With a laugh, Scorpius told him there was a place within walking distance, but the better spot was on the south side, not far from a flooing station. Al demanded only the best, so they flooed to the station just south of the El and walked the rest. The area was a little rough, but Scorpius was a regular at the pizza shop, using the name Henry. Al snickered at the subterfuge and Scorpius swatted at him.

“You try telling these Yanks that your name is _Albus_ and see what happens!” he complained, making Al laugh louder. They ordered way too much food and talked more than they ate, and by the time they were getting ready to leave, Scorpius was wondering what the ever bleeding fuck he was doing so far away from this person. Unprompted, Al informed him on their walk to the floo that he’d gotten sick of France, resigned his low-level post, and moved back to England. That was… _odd_. As far as he knew, Al adored Paris, had been thriving in the high intensity environment, and had discussed extending his contract again. Mental notes in Scorpius’ mind shuffled around until one consistent name stood out: Delilah Finnigan. An ever-increasing subject in Al’s correspondence. Scorpius was too well-bred to pry.

“Good,” Scorpius responded dully, “Those frogs were warping your innocent mind.” In front of the floo, Al looked at him oddly and busted out laughing, going so far as to double over.

“Oh mate, I really do miss you. Letters just don’t cut it.”

Scorpius nodded tersely, grabbing the powder, “Don’t I know it.”

They made it back to Scorpius’ flat in one piece. It was a two bedroom (and underhanded move on his father’s part so he couldn’t turn down a visit), but they sprawled out on the sofa passing a bottled of Ogden’s finest (courtesy of Al, the loveable bastard) back and forth. Al explained why he hadn’t mentioned leaving Paris, that it had been somewhat impulsive, but he had a bunch of job offers to sort through when he got back. He wanted to take a few weeks to process and figure out his next steps, but at least he wouldn’t hurt for work.

“With your name and experience,” Scorpius raised his bottle, quoting his father, “you’ll never be without options. Options, Albus, that’s the key to life.”

Al was giggling, too tipsy to stop his snorts, “Your dad’s such a berk.” They collapsed on each other, trying to get their breath back. But when they settled down, they quieted, content enough to be there. It was such a relief being back around him, like the first inhalation after holding your breath, like stepping into a dark, quiet room after being surrounded by hundreds of voices and city sounds and information. Al was a balm after so much time alone. In the swell of that solace, he felt safe enough to ask what he’d wondered almost constantly since he’d left England.

“How is she?” Al rolled his head along the back of the sofa, looking at him, amused, but not bothering to ask who Scorpius was referring to.

“Kicking arse and taking names,” Al declared, snatching the bottle from Scorpius and taking a long swig, “Just like she always said she would. Blew through training like she was born doing it. Dad says he’s gonna put her through the wringer on policy and regs, though.”

“ _Your_ dad’s a berk.”

“Don’t I know it. But Ro will do fine. He wouldn’t put her to task if she wasn’t up for it.”

“Is she…I shouldn’t—”

“No,” he snapped, “You shouldn’t. But since I am of the firm belief that you’re equally stupid: no. She isn’t seeing anyone. Works too much.”

“It’s odd. More than two years and I can still hear her screeching about ethics and morally responsible practices in my head. I kind of miss the real thing.”

“Well,” Al stretched out, kicking his feet up on Scorpius’ absurdly expensive coffee table, “I’m told I can do a fantastic Rose Weasley impression.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three Years Later  
> Scorpius Comes Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gets only a teeeeny bit graphic.

_And if we don't me before I leave, I hope I'll see you later_

 

A year later found Scorpius standing outside of Rose’s flat. Al had given him the address. _To write_ , his brain supplied unhelpfully. But he couldn’t seem to pick up a pen. (Americans were brilliant with their wide array of writing utensils. Why the bloody hell were Brits still using quills?) He couldn’t make the words come out. Three years ago, she’d said she loved him and he let her go so he could go chase down his dream unimpeded. He didn’t know what to say to her. Hey, I’m back, can we skip the argument and the shite and go shag? That was a nonstarter. He hadn’t even checked in with his parents yet, hadn’t flooed any of the boys, hadn’t written Lily either. He’d just come through the portkey thirty minutes before and the first place he went was the sidewalk across the street from Rose’s flat. She had the first floor of a three floor townhome. He wondered if her room was near the front or the back, and if her Auror training had any effect on that decision.

Scorpius wasn’t allowed to wonder long because her front door flung open and poured out an angry-looking Rose Weasley in a short, cream-colored silk dressing gown. Her wild hair was long now, loosely hanging past her shoulders. She was heading straight for him when she stopped abruptly, eyes wide and glinting in the street lights, hair swaying sharply with her movement, jaw dropping open.

“Hey Weasley,” he called out. When she didn’t respond, he brushed his nose nervously and crossed the street to stand in front of her, standing on the street instead of the sidewalk. He was taller. She was still staring at him, frozen in her aborted movement to hex the life out of him.

“M-my neighbor c-called and said someone was lurking,” she stammered out, tightening her robe around herself to discreetly tuck her wand in a hidden pocket.

“Called?”

“Muggle,” she bit out. He nodded. It wasn’t that uncommon anymore, witches and wizards living in the middle of muggles. Discretion charms were being developed to help hide magical activity, or at least to obscure it. And the Weasley-Potters had always preferred the anonymity muggle company provided.

“Sorry bout that. Didn’t mean to lurk.” She was shorter than he remembered. Then again, she was barefoot and held tightly together in her defensiveness. At school, she’d always seemed to fill the room.

She cleared her throat, looking down and shifting her weight, “So you’re back?” Her voice was even, but it didn’t match her body language. A charming trait of hers that. Rose could only control her voice or control her body language. She couldn’t control them both simultaneously. She could be shrieking at the top of her lungs and still lounge in her seat.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

There it was. Just a tiny, infinitesimal opening. A crack just this side of big enough to give him hope. He stepped up onto the sidewalk, moving into her sphere. She didn’t back away.

“For good. They offered me a position on the Board of Magical Education and I’m taking it.”

“And you…came here because..?”

He opened his mouth once or twice, looking over head briefly while he tried to find an answer. Instead, he just shrugged broadly. There wasn’t a good answer for that. He’d left British customs and walked for ten minutes before the urge to see her had welled up. No one was expecting him, he’d made no official plans, had nowhere to go, and couldn’t resist the impulse. Of course, he hadn’t expected her to notice him, let alone come out and talk to him.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I just—I just wanted to see you.”

“Oh,” she breathed out. They watched each other for a good while, just taking the other in and noting the differences. Three years and autonomy had changed them both; Rose looked less childlike, worldlier, more womanly. There was a new easiness in her manners and stance, a developed confidence.

“So you’re—And you’re not..? Are you?”

Unable to help himself, Scorpius ducked down to kiss her, hand cupping her cheek as he pressed their lips together firmly once and released slowly. And _Merlin_ it was so perfect he ached for it. He couldn’t believe they’d waited so long. He watched her as they separated, admired her eyelashes that brushed the top of her cheek bone, noted the stray freckle here and there that begged for further examination. Then she opened her eyes, her indigo blue irises flashing with emotions he couldn’t quite catch hold of.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Scorpius froze. “Al said—”

But then her face broke into an unabashed grin that pulled at every inch of skin on her face and she laughed. Merlin, he thought he might never get to hear her laugh again. His belly flipped, recognizing that he’d missed it much more than he’d allowed himself to believe.

“I-I’m sor-sorry,” she apologized between snorts and giggled, a hand clamped to her mouth. He was just trying to breathe again and tamp down his panicked mortification.

“You are such a cow,” he said fondly, shaking his head and wondering how the hell he found himself in this position.

“I couldn’t pass that up!” she teased, shoving his shoulder. “I vomited my feelings all over you, and then you _left_. It’s been 3 years you tosser, and nary a word from your side of the pond!”  

“What was I—?” At the suddenly feral look in her eyes, he stopped, taking a step back away from her. She followed though, her gown gaping open to reveal some rather immodest pyjamas. She was going to run after a lurker in _that_? Merlin, what was he doing? “Might be best not to shout it out in the street, yeah?” She rolled her eyes, releasing a growling sigh as she grabbed his hand to pull him toward the door.

“ _Fine_ , except we both know once we go indoors that we’ll shag. But we are having this fight later.”

He followed her through the door chuckling, “Looking forward to it.”

*

Scorpius never rested easily in unfamiliar places. He thought it was probably due to the fact that his school dormitory and childhood bedroom were so similar, low lights, dark color palette, quiet, underground. Malfoy Place (not to be mistaken for Malfoy Manor) was two floors, the main level and a basement level with bedrooms. His father had styled it similar to the Slytherin dungeons, and Scorpius had several windows that were charmed to show into the lake nearby. Scorpius’ Chicago flat had been exactly the opposite: high rise, lots of bay windows overlooking open air, natural light, flooded with city noise. And Rose’s flat in London was different still. The sound-proofing charms were fairly obvious, natural light shot through narrow windows, but it felt cozier and less spacious. _More like the Gryffindor common room_ , his muddled brain supplied.

He stretched and turned in the absurdly comfortable bed, looking at Rose who was still sleeping heavily. The duvet had slipped from her shoulder, revealing a triangle of her bare chest which rose and fell at an even pace. If possible, her hair was wilder than usual, mussed from sliding along the pillows (and from his hands). His eyes dragged along her face, landing on that stupidly positioned freckle on her temple. Scorpius let out a long breath and decided to get up and let her sleep. They had a lot to talk about (certainly a lot more than they had before he showed up), and a grouchy Rose was not nearly as much fun to fight with. Instead, he rolled out of bed and rummaged for his shorts, quietly pulling them on. For a moment he debated whether or not to put his vest back on, and decided that one couldn’t be too cautious in a Weasley home. With one last look at Rose, he slipped out of the room to go exploring.

Her flat was exactly the kind of place Rose would want to live. Comfortable, cozy, full of extraneous architectural details, and nothing matching at all. He noted with some amusement that almost everything was used, probably purchased from secondhand shops, with clashing colors and patterns. His mother would have hated it. And then there was the clutter; framed photographs were on every surface, books that were supposed to be in shelves were spread out on the sofa, coffee table, random chairs, there were even some stacked on the floor in the hall leading to her bedroom. And any remaining surface had some sort of potted plant, housewarming gifts from her family most likely, and probably charmed to withstand even Rose’s care. There was an oversized owl perch with several water and treat bowls and a big white “X” on the hardwood floor near the front door. He could only imagine how many times a Weasley-Potter apparated into her flat only to end up on a chair or table that had been moved around since their last visit. He snorted. Imagine the shouting.

The kitchen was pristine. It was small, could only fit a person or two, but that was probably a purposeful decision. Rose didn’t like cooking for other people, and she certainly wouldn’t want to host more than one or two at a time. A small kitchen was a valid excuse to move the party elsewhere. It took but a moment for him to find the kettle and tea things. He could have conjured tea, of course, it would have been more polite, but conjured tea was the worst. While waiting for the water to boil, Scorpius noticed the note left in the windowsill above the sink from Mrs. Granger-Weasley, scolding her daughter for leaving dishes in the sink and reminding her of upcoming family events. He couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“What the fuck could you possibly be laughing at this early?” Rose’s voice interrupted from the entryway. She’d dressed in an oversized sleep shirt and tied her unruly hair up, but her face was pinched and squinty as she scowled at him.

Getting out a few chuckles, he told her, “Remember fifth year? That parents’ weekend when your mum got into your dorm and cleaned the place top to bottom, even your trunk?” She grunted in irritation. Almost everyone remembered, actually, because Rose was furious about it, complaining to anyone in hearing range. He grabbed the note and waved it at her. “Nice to know things don’t change.” Rose groaned, snatching the note from him.

“When did she even _get in_ here? I’ve got wards all over the place!” she whined, scrunching it and tossing it over her shoulder. Scorpius was too busy laughing at her and preparing the tea to have any sympathy. If Rose even _attempted_ to tidy up after herself then she wouldn’t be having those problems.

“Shut it you,” she grumbled and swiped the tea he’d just made. He rolled his eyes and made another cup. When he turned around, Rose was folded up on one of the chairs, cradling her mug, and watching him intently. He leaned back against the counter, dipping the tea bag and tilting his head questioningly.

“Woke up and you weren’t there,” she said evenly, her voice a little too bland to be genuine. He had the decency to look guilty.

“Sorry,” he said, “early riser.”

“Nasty habit.”

“I’ll work on it.” They both broke out into grins, blushing a little.

“We do have one small problem, though,” she informed him, feigning somberness.

“We do?”

“We do,” she said setting her tea down and standing, “We,” she gestured between them, “are scheduled for a fight.”

“You bet your arse we are.”

She smirked, swaying her hips a little as she moved toward him, “ _But_ , it’s Granny Weasley’s birthday party today. And I know for a fact that your parents don’t know you’re back yet.”

“You know that for a fact, do you?” he asked as she slid her arms around his waist. He lifted his tea up and out of the way, setting it by the sink behind them.

“Oh yes, because if Al doesn’t know you’re here then your parents don’t know you’re here. And I haven’t gotten a dozen lovesick letters and floo calls from Al about his husband coming home.” Scorpius scowled, but Rose was laughing up at him, wrinkling her nose.

“I resent that, we have an epic bromantic love.”

“One for the ages,” she confirmed teasingly, making him roll his eyes. Scorpius sighed heavily and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. He wasn’t exactly pleased with the time constraints. They needed to actually talk and he definitely didn’t want to spend the whole time arguing. There were several options for shortcuts through that conversation, but none of them were really ideal. He hadn’t _planned_ any of this, at all, but now that he was smack dab in the middle of it, he wanted to clear everything up and get it out of the way. Still another part of him wanted to forget the whole thing, forgive everything and talk about nothing so that he could just soak in her presence, reacquaint himself with the idea of not having to miss her. Scorpius brought his hands to her arms, dragging along the undersides to draw them up around his neck. He closed the gap between them by roping his arms around her rib cage and ducking down to kiss her thoroughly.  

This was the best option, he thought when she responded immediately and sighed happily. This was the important part of their argument, that they could have been doing this for years already. That there shouldn’t have been an argument in the first place. That he regretted every unsent letter and every abandoned floo call. That he wished she’d been at Donnie and Ava’s wedding so he could have shouted some sense into her. That in the back of his mind he visited Al in Paris hoping that their visits might overlap. That he scanned for her name first in every letter he’d received in the last three years, just hoping for some news. That he wasn’t sure she’d felt or done the same. Instead of verbalizing it, Scorpius licked into her mouth, deepening the kiss and drawing more of her weight on him. After a few long moments, she pulled away, lips bruised, face flushed, and eyes glazed over. A rumble in his chest compelled him to reach for her lips again, but she stopped him with a hard, quick peck.

“I’m not kidding about that party. Mum wants me at the Burrow early.” He groaned, knocking his forehead to hers, but she just laughed. He took it as a good sign that she wasn’t trying to extract herself from his grip. She angled her head to catch his gaze. “Why don’t you come with me? Just tell everyone you’re there to surprise Al. James, and Lily, and Fred, and well….everyone else,” she laughed, “has been dying to see you too.”

“Doubt your dad has,” he pointed out. Rose scowled.

“Dad can get over himself. If mum can have a civil conversation with your father, then _he_ can deal.”

He furrowed his brows searching recent memory, “Since when does my father have conversations with your mum?”

She snorted, “Since my mum conscripted your father’s company to fund a campaign for werewolf rights.”

“He’s retired,” Scorpius repeated mechanically with a skeptical brow.

But Rose just shrugged, rocking her hips side to side, “Tell _them_ that.” He was just surprised that his father hadn’t mentioned anything about it. Usually he kept Scorpius apprised of all company business “just in case” he ever decided to change careers. It was odd. Well, Mr. Malfoy was definitely up to something, malicious or benign, his son couldn’t say.

“Anyway,” she prompted, breaking into his thoughts and dragging her hands down to rest on his chest, “I want you there. And I’ll admit that now that I’ve got you here, I’m…a little reluctant to let you out of my sight again.” Scorpius sighed through his nose, looking down at her. It wasn’t so difficult a thing to understand. He was feeling a little raw himself. But a Weasley party? He’d never been around the whole family in one go, though he’d met the majority individually and in small groups. He’d never even been invited to the Burrow. Then again, he was also reluctant to allow Rose too much time to think without him. He twisted his jaw nervously.

“Trial by fire then, huh?” She nodded with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “ _Fine_.” She squeaked and clapped. “But! If even one of them asks me about something in the Malfoy vault, I’m _leaving_.” It was a valid concern; people were unabashedly forward about that kind of thing. And half of their family was in the Auror department.

She feigned sobering up immediately, “That’s fair.” Her tone was so disingenuous that he narrowed his eyes.

“And we’re not telling them we’re together yet. Not until Al knows.” She nodded her head, mockingly appeasing his demands. “ _And_ —” Rose cut off his ridiculousness with a hard kiss.

“Shut up!” she barked, darting down the hall. “Get dressed!”

*

Rose had absolutely no qualms about bringing Scorpius along without telling anyone. First of all, parties for Granny and Grandad Weasley were _huge_. Anyone who had ever even remotely considered them parental figures was invited, along with spouses and children. Then there was the whole family and their own friends. The only party bigger than that had been Lucy’s wedding because Uncle Percy invited the whole Ministry. _That_ had been a memorable night, for sure. A month after Scorpius left, two months before Donnie and Ava’s wedding, and Rose had been utterly miserable. And drunk. So very, very drunk that Domi ditched her date to babysit her. Al wasn’t speaking to her at the time, still pissy that she wouldn’t tell him what happened with Scorpius, so she’d sobbed out everything to her older cousins. They weren’t exactly sympathetic, but they did make her feel better about all of it. So…maybe she was a little nervous about showing up with Scorpius. Because her cousins weren’t _stupid_ and Al was a nosy son of a bitch.

Tugging her canary yellow dress over her head, then bending to slip on her wedges, Rose felt the stretch in her muscles, still sore from their evening activities, and she smirked. Shag, indeed. What Scorpius lacked in practical experience, he made up for with thorough attentiveness, and that kind of focus could only be improved upon. She straightened to shake out her hair, mumbling an arranging charm to instantly style it. Then she reached behind, feeling for the zipper. Hands settled on her waist, straightening her skirt before they moved to zip up the back of her dress and sweep her hair to the side so lips could press where her neck met her shoulder. A memory of wet dirt and soft feathers and a weight on her shoulder crystallized in her mind’s eye, almost on cue. It happened whenever someone put a hand on that shoulder, when there was weight on it; images from that dream would overwhelm her.

“Do you remember how we got out of the Forest when I got lost third year?” she whispered roughly, trying to stamp out her arousal or she wasn’t going to be able to function for the rest of the day. Scorpius hummed against her skin, nuzzling the spot.

“Flew,” he mumbled, “on Buckbeak. But I passed out.”

“We flew?” He hummed again. “I remember you saying Buckbeak brought us out…but I thought…” She trailed off as his arms slipped tightly around her waist, and he dropped his chin to her shoulder. Her knees nearly gave out and she arched back into him.

“Flying was faster, you were cold and bleeding.” She turned her head to brush their noses together, nudging against him. She could tell he wanted to ask about her sudden curiosity, that he was concerned about her train of thought, but he didn’t say anything. Rose didn’t want to explain.

“We should go. Side-along?” When she felt him nod, Rose shut her eyes and thought of the spot just outside the front gate of the Burrow. The sharp crack whipped against her ears, there was a twinge in her belly, and then her nostrils were filled with smells of honeysuckle and grass and _home_. 

Rose blinked her eyes open into the sunlight just behind the big apple tree ahead and smiled wide at the familiar sight of the Burrow with its crooked walls and big windows and a trail of smoke coming from the main chimney (there were three now). She could hear manic baby laughter coming from somewhere behind the house, along with shouts and cheerful jeering. The boys must already be setting up the tent, and the Lupin toddlers were probably running rampant. Heloise and Remus were holy terrors, with their veela blood and metamorphagus abilities. Lucy’s eighteen-month old, Freya, was shaping up to be a perfect angel like her mother though, and as her godmother, Rose was completely enamored of the little girl.

“Well,” she sighed, rubbing Scorpius’ forearm. He’d lifted his head from her shoulder to take everything in and was suspiciously quiet. “This is it. This is where it all happens.” She twisted to get a look at his baffled expression and shook with laughter. His jaw was dropped open and there was a deep line between his eyebrows. “Whatcha think?”

“Al’s described it, but…”

“It looks worse than it sounds?” she teased. She’d never been to Malfoy Place, but from what Al had told her, there was a huge difference in their families’ lifestyles.

“I think it’s wonderful,” he breathed, the corners of his lips pulling up. She shook her head laughingly. Yes, people had that reaction too. Uncle Harry was absolutely mad for the old house, and Rose’s mum was known to tear up in certain rooms on occasion just from reminiscing. Rose pointed to the top near the roof.

“That was my dad’s room.”

“The one with the tiny round window?” he asked skeptically.

“Yep. Floor just under the attic. There was a ghoul up there.” She laughed. “Dad says it used to keep him up nights because it was so loud.”

“A _ghoul_?”

“Mhmm,” she answered. “But now no one sleeps in there because the walls are covered in orange.”

“Orange,” he repeated.

“ _Cannons_.”

“Duly noted.”

She chuckled and turned to take his hand. “Come on then, best to catch them off guard.” Rose pulled him along even as he dragged his feet trying to look at everything. She had to admit, there was a lot to see. Instead of arguing, she just shook her head again and led him inside.

As expected, there was no one in the front room or the den. Aunt Ginny and Rose’s mum always handled Granny Weasley’s birthday, and they were relentless tyrants when it came to assigning chores. All available hands would be out back setting up or washing or cooking. Kreacher would be there to help, of course, but he handled food prep better than he did the cleaning anymore. Remembering Scorpius’ half-hearted request to keep their relationship status a secret, Rose dropped his hand before crossing into the kitchen and had to dive back into the den to drag him away from the two grandfather clocks with all their spoon-shaped portraits pointing to their respective whereabouts. Almost all were pointing to the newly added “Burrow” instead of “Home.” Anymore, there were too many “Homes,” and Granny wanted to know when people were at _their_ homes versus her home. Her grandfather built the second one after Uncle Percy got married so that they could add all the spouses and grandchildren. They were terribly ingenious and useful, but Grandad could bore Scorpius with that _later_. He was about to argue, when she shouted over him.

“Oi! I’m on time and I brought a surprise!” she shouted into the noisy, overheated kitchen. Several offhand greetings rang back, but a few of them turned around to see who’d arrived.

“Rose!” Vix squealed over the din, rushing to embrace her, kissing her cheeks and cooing at the cut of her dress. She cut herself off, eyes bugging out at the sight of her surprise. “And _Scorpius!_ ” If her entrance hadn’t attracted all of their attention, then Vix’s announcement did. Several red and brown heads whipped around in surprise, gasping.

“Scorpius!” “Mum look, Scorpius is back!” “Who invited a Malfoy?” someone shouted teasingly. Scorpius, blushing, took this all in stride and greeted the horde, accepting hugs and handshakes over shoulders, speaking to Vix in rapid French, as Rose tried to pull him through to the back door. They didn’t make it there because Fred came bounding down the stairs and leapt to embrace his old pal. In all the excitement, they neglected to realize that the door and windows were all open, and so everyone outside had heard the shouting. Rose only had a moment to prepare herself for Al’s shrill screech from the back doorway. Scorpius jumped and rounded about to the source of the noise and grinned.

“Hey Albie,” he muttered. Al just shrieked again and ran at his best friend, tackling him to the ground in a hug. Scorpius had the wind knocked out of him and wasn’t prepared to catch him, so they collapsed in a heap despite his protests. Rose just stood to the side, shrugging at the rest of her family. What could you do? Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny had trailed their son into the house and were watching the pair’s reunion with no small amount of amusement.

“You didn’t greet me like that when _I_ came home,” Uncle Harry sulkily accused his wife. Ginny Potter crossed her arms and shrugged.

“I guess I just don’t love you that much.” The rest of the kitchen burst into laughter while Fred, now joined by James, tried to extract Al from Scorpius and the floor. “Hello Scorpius,” Mrs. Potter called evenly around the chaos, “Lovely to see you, dear.”

Scorpius clambered back to his feet and went to kiss her cheek and shake Mr. Potter’s hand, “Hey Mrs. Potter, been too long, hasn’t it? Mr. Potter.”

“Scorpius.” But then Al was on his feet, arms flailing.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home!” he shouted.

“I know.”

“No floo, no note, not even an arrival date!”

“I know,” Scorpius repeated, clapping his hysterical friend on the shoulder. All of the ruckus drew in those still outside, and they were crowding around the back door. The babies ducked through legs, Heloise and Remus ran to clamp their arms around Rose’s legs, babbling their greetings. She bent and kissed their hands and cheeks even as Scorpius brought her cousins up to date on his homecoming and plans at present. Rose tried not to blush even as she felt his gaze flick over to her.

“ _Would you lot move_!” came Hermione Granger-Weasley’s prim voice from behind those crowded in the doorway. “I am trying to see my daughter! Louis, you oaf!” she snapped, lifting his arm to step under it. Louis, nearly two feet taller than his aunt, ruffled her hair as she passed and got swatted for it. Rose stood to hug her mother, about to explain that she _wasn’t_ late just because the rest of them had all slept there. But her mother was distracted by the shock of pale blond hair among black, brown, and red.

“Scorpius!” she said with some surprise, looking sharply at her daughter who pulled her lips in impishly. “We weren’t expecting you. _At all,_ really.  I thought you still had a few months left in Chicago?”

Scorpius shrugged with a grin, “I got in last night. I’ve finished my part of the research and I’m just in the way until the others catch up.”

“Last night,” her mother echoed too evenly considering her level of surprise. Her knowing gaze flicked back to Rose who squirmed under her mother’s study of her. “How wonderful.” She turned back to Scorpius who was looking like a rabbit caught in a trap. “Well it’s lovely to have you. I’m sure we can find some use for you.”

“Mum!” Rose protested. But Mrs. Granger-Weasley waved her off saying that even guests had to help. She whirled around on the rest of them.

“And what are you lot doing standing around like we’ve not got a party on? Step to, come on,” she clapped her hands together quickly, chasing most of them back outside and snapping at everyone inside to keep cleaning and cooking. Freaking tyrant, she was. As everyone turned back to their tasks and their conversations reverted to normal volume (loud), Al gasped.

“You haven’t met Granny or Grandad!” he said shoving Scorpius toward the door, “They’re in the garden. And I know you haven’t met Uncle Charlie, _he’s_ got some stories, and Donnie and Ava and Frank are supposed to show up soon. Lorc and Ly are gonna be late, though. They don’t know you’re here do they?” Scorpius shot a look over his shoulder at Rose, who was currently being swarmed by her girl cousins and being handed her goddaughter. He smiled when she shrugged, and then he was gone out the door, trying to get Al to slow down, _he only had two feet, damn it._

Rose had more pressing things to contend with, she realized as the brows of her cousins shot straight up, expectantly. Molly with her bright red hair braided back, Lucy with her just-dyed black bob, and Roxy with her twisty brown coils luxuriously falling to her shoulders, stood in front of her like the Three Fates, while Domi, pixie cut and pink tips, lounged at the table, dipping her wand to move the knife that was evenly chopping vegetables. Vix, who kept her white blonde tresses long and wavy, was washing dishes by hand at the sink, though her expression was far more amused than curious. From outside, there was another squeal of _SCORPIUS!_ And then Rose heard his “oof!” But he must have caught her because Rose could heard him laughing, “Merlin, Li Lu, you’ve got fat!” There was a girlish squawk of protest and another outburst of laughter. Rose had to fight off the urge to check on them, but she couldn’t stop the goofy smile on her face. It was her curse and her burden to never be able to hide what she was feeling. She didn’t even bother to stop the scowl as her cousins smirked at her reaction.

“Stop it. Right now. _All_ of you,” Rose ordered, bending down to pat Remus’ curly head. He’d taken up residence on her foot, playing with the straps of her shoes. With his big brown eyes and sandy blond curls, he looked up and gave her a cheesy smile. Remus was much quieter than Heloise who was tugging at her skirt, but he was the bigger troublemaker. At four years old, his mother was convinced that he could tie knots, but refused to do it when prompted. His secret skill would explain why many of his cousins’ trainer laces mysteriously tied together during kips. Heloise was just _loud_.

“Stop what, Rosie?” Roxy cooed innocently, tugging a strand of her hair.

“Don’t call me Rosie!” she scolded, biting at Roxy’s hand. “And you know what. Looking at me like you know things!” The five women laughed, going back to their chores.

“Oh, honey,” Lucy said in a false attempt to mollify her, “we _do_ know.” They women giggled again, shooting each other knowing looks and winking at Rose. With a slight pout, the youngest Weasley girl looked down at her goddaughter perched on her hip, pretty baby Freya, who was chewing on her fingers and staring wide eyed at the woman holding her. Rose kissed her forehead, bouncing her a little.

“Freya, you are the only sane one here,” Rose muttered. Freya shrieked and threw her slobbery hand against Rose’s cheek.

“Bugger.”

“ _Language_ , Rose!”

A few more hours, and people started to trickle in for luncheon. No one really ate much of anything in anticipation of the dinner to come. But guests really started showing up in droves late in the afternoon, just as the sun was going down. Weasley affairs were not to be missed. The tent was bursting at the seams with people and chairs and elvish wine. A good many of Rose’s schoolmates were there, most with their parents who were friends of her parents. Several Hogwarts professors, including a half dozen of those who’d retired, stood speaking to their former students in groups. Hagrid came with Fang III, of course, and a group of the younger children were huddled around him, petting and tugging.  Aunt Andromeda, former Prime Minister Shacklebolt, former Headmistress McGonagall, and Mr. Aberforth were there too. Then there were a dozen or so upper level ministry employees, Quidditch players, and Weasley/Prewett relatives. There were so many people that Rose had only caught a glimpse of Scorpius once or twice before she was being dragged off to make rounds or he was being summoned by someone. They shot each other forlorn looks, but went where they were called. Rose figured that once guests started to clear out, she could drag him off before her mum made her clean something. Her only hope was that Al was protecting him and fending off the ghastly Prewett cousins who were _bound_ to say something dreadful. So when a dark head of hair popped up next to her at the table she’d just occupied, she gasped and thwacked his chest.

“I can’t believe you abandoned your best friend to the horde!”

Al tossed back his head and laughed, “Oh please, Scorpius can handle himself. He’s a big boy.” She let out a steady breath through her nose. “Unless there’s a _good reason_ they would eat him alive?” he prompted provocatively, waggling her eyebrows at her. She used her hand to push his face away. “Oh come on,” he spluttered. “I’m trying not to be jealous that he didn’t tell me he was here and then showed up with you.”

“You should be jealous,” she teased, “Stealing him from you was _so easy_.”

He swatted at her arm, “But seriously, what the hell is going on with you two?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” keeping her voice light and airy as she judiciously avoided making eye contact.

“Come off it, Weasley,” he snorted, “When you’re not making moon eyes at each other across the room…” She rounded on him, whacking his arm.

“I am _not_ , you bint!”

“…then you’re looking for each other. Absolutely impossible to talk to right now, he is. Can’t get him to focus for more than a mo’.”

“There are a lot of people here, _Potter_ , and it’s pretty loud. He’s probably overstimulated,” she sniffed primly, throwing one leg over the other. Al poked her cheek.

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m talking about. He’s _definitely_ overstimulated and it has nothing to do with the blooming party, you cow.” She elbowed him in the stomach, and they grappled playfully with each other for a minute before calling a truce. Between her constant training with the Aurors and his office job, they were too evenly matched. Rose sighed and dropped her forehead to his shoulder, rolling it in an attempt to get rid of her oncoming headache.

“Too soon to tell,” she confessed ruefully. “We’ve scheduled an argument.” Al snorted loudly so she pinched him. “S’not funny! I’m sure I’ll manage to run him off again.”

“To be fair, love, you didn’t exactly chase after him the last time.”

“Embarrassed,” she explained shortly.

“You never did tell me what happened there. He wouldn’t either.”  That information made her feel warm. Scorpius and Al told each other everything. Absolutely everything. It was nice to have some shared secrets between them. Not that many would last very long with her family hanging about, but it was still nice for the present. She sat up, tucking her hair back behind both ears, eyes automatically scanning the crowd. Like a magnet, her gaze snapped into position, locking with Scorpius’ from across the room. He was talking to Dorea Jones, Donnie, and Ava, while holding the newest MacMillan baby, Eric. He was nodding as someone spoke, keeping the baby occupied with a toy in his hand, but his eyes were zeroed in on Rose where she sat next to Al. She wondered if he’d been staring for very long (because how _embarrassing_ ) and if other people had noticed. Rose cleared her throat, trying so very hard not to blush, as she squared up to her cousin.

“I think,” she said slowly, “that since I haven’t really discussed it with _him_ , I should probably hold off on telling _you_.”

Al stared vacantly at her, “You shagged him, didn’t you?” Rose felt her jaw drop open, blushing furiously, and slugged him in the shoulder.

“Bloody hell, Albus! Say it louder, I don’t think _Granny_ heard you!” He laughed and shoved her right back.

“You _totally did_!” he gritted out excitedly. She shoved at his chest.

“Could we maybe discuss this when my parents _and_ our bloody grandparents aren’t hanging around?” she hissed. Al barked a laugh, throwing an arm around the back of her chair as he took in the view of the party happening around them.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agreed. “But you two better sort it because I’m not playing the child of divorce anymore. I’m not doing this splitting time and holidays and weekends shite.” Rose flicked her eyes over to Scorpius who winked at her before looking back to respond to Dorea.

“I don’t think that will be much of an issue,” she admitted, mortified. Al followed her gaze, beaming at the object of her attention.

“Merlin, just admit you love each other and go shag and make babies.”

“ _Al_!”

“What?” he asked, dodging her swat. “I’ve always said you two were barmy. Dancing around each other the way you do. Enough to drive a bloke mad.”

“It’s complicated,” she argued hotly.

“No s’not.”

She pursed her lips tightly. “We still have things to talk about. And by talk I mean argue.”

“So talk. Argue. Punch him in the face if you have to. _Whatever_. Just make sure you actually, you know, _make up_ this time. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she answered softly.  

“Good. Now go save him from Dorea and that baby. I’m certain he’s bored to death of talk about nappies and _journalistic integrity_.”

She rounded on him. “And what will _you_ be doing?” she asked, doing her best to arch only the one brow. His amused grin meant she was probably unsuccessful. 

“I’m going over there,” he said swishing his finger in the opposite direction, “To chat up Lorc and Ly’s American cousin.” He waggled his eyebrows and bolted.

“Smarmy git!” she called after him. Al flipped her the V, but otherwise ignored her. With a sigh, she got up to do as she was bid. But as she approached, she realized that Al was definitely right about Scorpius being bored. Dorea was droning on and on about maintaining the integrity of journalism, keeping it unmarred by political and monetary influences. Ava kept inserting “As a mother…” comments every once in a while, and Donnie was drinking. Rose stifled a laugh when she recognized Scorpius’ “I’m listening to you talk, but I’m not really paying attention to you” face. It was tricky to discern at a distance, nonetheless she figured Al was skilled at spotting it. This called for an intervention.

“Oh my goodness, Scorpius Malfoy, there you are!” she interrupted loudly as she broke into the group. “Give the nice people their baby back,” she said smoothly passing little Eric off to empty-armed Ava, “I’m sorry guys, I have to steal him for a mo’, people looking for him.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him away, espousing apologies over her shoulder. Much to his amusement, apparently, because his shoulders were shaking as they navigated the throngs of people. Across the room, she caught Al’s gaze and he lifted his eyebrows in question. Rose tilted her head toward the main entrance and he gave her a thumbs-up. That done, Rose beelined for the refreshment table, snagged a bottle of wine, and ushered Scorpius out the tent door into the open air.

It was a relief to get a gulp of fresh air, especially since the body heat in the tent was to the point of unbearable. Someone, eventually, would cast cooling charms, but it almost wasn’t worth it to wait. The second they were in the clear, Rose snaked her arm around Scorpius’ waist and he lifted his to lie across her shoulders in tandem. She felt the press of his nose in her hair and she leaned into him. It was twice the relief to have him close again and his grip on her suggested he felt the same. They didn’t speak as they walked together through the garden, though he made a face at her when she jumped the fence that separated the Burrow’s garden from the surrounding woods and fields. She just put a hand on her hip, dangling the wine bottle in front of her like bait. Scorpius sighed, shot a look back at the tent, and followed her over the fence. Rose took him down to the pond where all of the Weasley-Potters had learned to swim and fish like muggles. Grandad with fishing poles had been _hilarious_ , just as Aunt Audrey had predicted. Audrey’s father was a fisherman in Wales, and had offered to get a bunch of poles for her nieces and nephews, if they wanted. They had quite a few entertaining summers as a result. Rose’s dad and Uncle George even built a dock, though it wasn’t without its quirks. There was a trick plank that would launch you into the pond if you stepped wrong and a pole holder that would shout premature warnings that you had a fish on the line. Hugo always used that one because he thought it was brilliant.

Rose guided Scorpius up to the dock, making sure to shove him far enough to the left of the trick plank. When he looked at her incredulously, she laughingly told him not to ask. As they sat down, he cast a blue light sending it to hover above the water. Rose slipped off her shoes to dip her toes in. There were so many wards and protection charms cast over that pond for so many years that she highly doubted anything dangerous would bother taking up residence there. They accio’d the cork from the wine bottle and traded off taking sips. Their quiet was so nice and gentle that she really didn’t have the heart to break it. He must not have either because he slipped his arm back around her shoulders, pulling her to him so he could kiss her temple.

“Al asked me if we shagged,” she said after the bottle was half gone. They couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Al’s a punk,” Scorpius supplied unhelpfully. But it was enough to make her giggle. “He was bound to figure it out anyway,” he reasoned. “And besides, it’s not some huge secret, I just didn’t fancy getting murdered by your father in front of your whole family.”

“He won’t kill you,” she grumbled, picking at the hem of his shirt. She felt him kiss her head again. “But I do kind of want to keep it to ourselves for a bit. Well…as long as possible. Which won’t be very long with my cousins sniffing around.”

“I give it a week before they’re _popping over_ for a chat at odd hours.”

She giggled, tilting her head to look up at him, “I’ll just have to hide you in my bedroom then.”

He kissed her softly, smiling, “I can be okay with that.” She hummed and pecked at his lips once more before settling back into him. She groaned.

“Can we fight and not fight at the same time?” she wondered aloud piteously.

“Doubt it.”

“Naysayer.”

“Weasley, I’d love to not fight with you, but I don’t see how we can avoid it.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, picking up the hem of his shirt between her fingers again, she rolled the fabric, picked at the thread.

“Would you like to start or shall I?”

“I got the last word in last time, so…”

He laughed through his nose. “True enough.” Scorpius inhaled deeply, gently displacing her head for a moment before clearing his throat. “Saying you loved me and then storming out like that was a shite move.”

“Honestly, I was just as surprised as you were.”

“Nice excuse. Still left. And then you avoided me.”

She winced, “You were supposed to leave a week after graduation. I was pissed.” She bit down on her lip, hard, deciding it wasn’t fair to hold back now. “I thought we had more time. Logically, I _knew_ you were going to leave eventually, but not the sodding week after graduation.”

“I only knew four days before you did.”

“That doesn’t change how I felt about it. I thought we had months to…It isn’t hard to believe that you wouldn’t have wanted to start a relationship when you were about to leave the country.”

He pulled back to make eye contact with her, arm dropping from her shoulders and eyebrows high, “Not like I was given much of a choice though, was I?”

“Well, it’s not like you made me think you were even interested in having the option!” she shot back resolutely.

“You were the one who didn’t show up to Donnie’s wedding!”

She made a face, “Because that was the _only_ place to have that conversation? That was three months after graduation, during which you didn’t even bother to write!” She had pulled back now, putting distance between them. And she hated it. A lot. But if they didn’t drain all the venom now, it would just sit there and fester. “You never wrote me at all.”

“I—” he grimaced as he faltered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I tried. I almost sent a few.”

“Almost isn’t did.”

“I know that!” he snapped testily. She fumed. “But what the hell was I supposed to say? You were so angry and I had no idea what you were thinking. I didn’t even catch a glimpse of you at graduation…”

“That’s because I didn’t go,” she confessed quietly. He swung his head sharply to meet her gaze. The blue light made his eyes glint and spark menacingly. “I left early. Got Uncle Harry to write me an exemption to start training early. I left for Bulgaria the day before Donnie’s wedding.”

“Al never said…”

She waved him off with a sigh, “Al didn’t know because we weren’t speaking at the time.” He was shocked once again. “He was so angry about how things went down with us that he didn’t speak to me until Christmas. And honestly, I think the only reason he did was because of whatever he talked about with Uncle George, bless that man.”

“What does your Uncle George know about us?” he asked apprehensively.

“Merlin knows,” she answered laying back on the dock and kicking her feet up. She was starting to really feel the effects of the alcohol she’d had all evening. Her skin felt light and loose. Scorpius looked away from her, out over the pond, frowning deeply.

“So I was just supposed to figure out how you felt and what I felt when you were actively avoiding me at every turn?”

She scowled, “I was embarrassed, you git.” Rose tossed her hands up and let them uselessly fall to her sides, curling them into fists.

“ _Really_?” he sneered in disbelief, wholly aggravated with the Weasley ego.

“Yes, _really_!” she barked, sitting back up. “It’s not as if I meant to freak out and cry and vomit my subconscious feelings all over the place!” As a matter of fact, she was about to start crying again, and it was so, so _stupid_.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to react. You just stormed off like a brat!”

She gasped, “Don’t get all superior on me! You were shouting at me when I was trying to have my reaction _alone_. I was too angry and upset to even see straight when you _waltzed_ right in there.”

“You ran off!”

“That didn’t mean you had to chase me down!”

“I did _not_ chase you. I followed, slowly, behind you.”

“I wanted to get _away_ from you. I was _processing_.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?”

“I don’t know?” she shot back with thinly veiled sarcasm. “Ask, maybe?”

“So I should have just gone in and _asked you_ if you wanted to talk to me?”

“YES!” she shouted, gesturing wildly.

He physically deflated, face softening. “Oh.” They stared at each other, still fuming, for a long moment. With a sigh Scorpius grabbed the wine bottle from where it sat between them and chugged. “We are so stupid,” he muttered in defeat, passing the bottle to her. She drank the rest of it.

“Yup,” she said in agreement. “I was such a goddamn coward and you were such a dumb prick that we wasted three years.”

He wanted to argue that point vehemently, but realized that she was right, and there was no point in trying to pin down more accurate terms. A lot of it could have been avoided if he’d told her about the fellowship from the beginning. Though, after all that time, he couldn’t even remember why he hadn’t. He also should have written her. He should have begged her to talk to him. Begged her to meet him somewhere, anywhere, just as long as they were in the same place at the same time. Hadn’t she responded almost immediately the moment he showed up? He shook his head ruefully, wishing he’d chased her down after she slammed that door, wishing they’d had this argument before he left for Chicago. But regrets and wishes were for fools who couldn’t grab hold of the present.

“I don’t care,” he breathed out finally.

“ _What_?”

“I don’t care that we lost three years. Maybe we needed three years. Maybe we needed the distance. I don’t know, and I don’t give a niffler’s arse. We’re here, together, right here and right now. And if we let that go because we’re pissed about mistakes we made and can’t fix, we’ll regret that too. So fuck it.”

Rose was staring at him eyes wide and so fucking blue in the low light. Before he could register that she’d moved, she launched herself at him, arms tight around his neck, knocking him back to the hard, uneven surface of the dock. The whole damn family was going to tackle him before the end, he just knew it. Then she was moving on top of him, getting purchase, and kissing him like she was dying for it. Scorpius took a beat to respond, but then his hands were clamping where he could reach. He surged up against her, opening to her assault, not bothering to wrest control of the kiss from her. While she put her energy into their mouths, which was devastating by the way, Scorpius let his hands drift down to cup her thighs and spread her over him, shoving her dress out of the way. He ground her down on him and moved rhythmically against her. He smiled against her gasps, but was starting to feel the discomfort of their position on the old wood planks. He was also pretty sure there was a nail poking him in the back. That being said, he couldn’t handle a frustrated Rose _and_ her family, so with one hand he cupped her bottom and the other reached for her clit. She wrenched her mouth away from his, groaning out his name and burying her face into his neck. Scorpius just kept up the pace, hips and hand moving in tandem, until her body stiffened on top of him and she cried out, breathless. Then her mouth was on his again, less frantic, gentle and probing with her hands cupping his cheeks.

“ _Shite_ ,” she mumbled against his lips, dropping her head to nuzzle at his cheek and catch her breath.

“That escalated quickly,” he offered unhelpfully. Above him, Rose shook with laughter, giggles that turned until ugly but happy snorts. “Merlin woman,” he teased, “pull yourself together.” She sat up, getting to her knees even as she straddled him.

“We should get back. They’ll send a rescue party soon.”

“You do have a track record for getting lost in the woods.” He smiled innocently at her even as she gave him her best stink eye. Instead of dignifying that with a response, she swung off of his lap and got to her feet, pulling the skirt of her dress down and brushing it off. She ran a hand through her hair, shaking out the tresses and smoothing the mussed areas. From where he was braced up on his elbows, Scorpius watched her unassuming moment. When she saw him staring, she gave him a small, half smile, and held out a hand to help him up. He used his momentum to catch her for another long kiss, a light and easy pressing of lips, a soothing confirmation. She pulled her head back, body still curving into his, and the way she looked at him made him feel weak and smug and so very, very lucky.

They got back to the tent as people were beginning to clear out. Rose heard a cluster of Weasleys talking near the front, so she pulled Scorpius around to the side, hoping to slide in without anyone being suspicious. It was an idea born to die a quick death.

“And just _where_ have you two been?”

Rose whipped around, her hair flaring up and hitting Scorpius in the face for moving too fast, to face the mocking voice behind them.

“Dad!” Rose squeaked and her hand squeezed Scorpius’ tighter as a result. He felt all the more relieved for it. “What are you—Wait, are you _smoking_? I thought you quit!” Her imperious tone was wildly inappropriate given the current situation, but Scorpius saw the cigarette end flare up when Ron Weasley inhaled. His intimidating countenance illuminated by the soft orange glow.

“Tried. Failed. Don’t tell mum.” He paused. “Your mum _and_ my mum, come that.” He dropped it to the grass and stubbed it out with his foot. “Besides,” Mr. Weasley continued as he blew out the remaining smoke from his lungs, “Hard to quit when your baby girl sneaks off from her grandmum’s party with a Malfoy.”

They both froze and Scorpius really thought he was going to shit himself. Ron Weasley was a scary man. Even as a businessman, he had a reputation of intimidation, for using his fierce temper which he’d backed up with his unswerving loyalty to Harry Potter. And while Scorpius had come into contact with him several times since, Scorpius would never forget Ron Weasley’s face when he demanded to know what he’d said to Rose to goad her into going into the Forbidden Forest alone. That was sufficient enough to give him nightmares. Beside him, Rose was scrambling for an explanation, trying to make it seem… _less_ than what it was. Scorpius shook his head.

“You’re right, Mr. Weasley, and I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Rose and I had a lot to talk about, and since she’d already made her rounds with the family…” It was only _sort_ _of_ a lie. They both waiting for the blow up, the fall out, the inevitable explosion of anger from her father. It never came.

Instead he threw his head back and laughed. For the first time, Rose turned slightly, exchanging concerned looks with Scorpius, who was equally confused. Her father laughed a lot about a lot of things, Malfoys weren’t one of them.

“Bloody hell,” he panted out, running a hand through his hair, then pointing vaguely at Scorpius, “You’re just as bad as Harry, you know that? He was _always_ covering for somebody. Merlin.”

“Daddy, are you having a stroke?”

He chuckled at her, “Rose you are a grown up woman who’s been trained by some of the best spellcasters in the world. I’d hardly have any ground to stand on having a fit about you spending time with men, let alone one you’ve known most of your life.”

Childishly, Rose stamped her foot. “Then why are you _smoking_?”

“I was teasing you, you tit.” Mr. Weasley reached out and tugged her hair. “I really am trying to quit, but your mother is a nutter about these parties. Drives a man mad.”

Rose took a step back, standing side by side with Scorpius, still holding his hand. She pulled their clasped hands in front of her, covering them with her free one.

“So… _this_ doesn’t bother you?” she clarified quietly. Meekly, actually. A tone that Scorpius had never really heard from the woman standing next to him. She sounded like a small child, afraid of her father’s disappointment. It was in direct conflict with her strong stance next to him, her tight grip on his hand, her level gaze. Instead of snapping or teasing or doing anything expected of him, Ron Weasley smiled at his daughter.

“Honey,” his eyes flicked over to Scorpius conspiratorially, “I think we both know this has been a long time coming.”

“Daddy…”

“Was always rooting for you, mate,” Mr. Weasley said cheerfully, clapping a thoroughly stunned Scorpius on the shoulder, “Now I was really worried when that Thomas boy started coming around in your fifth year. Did you know that his dad dated your Aunt Ginny? Talk about a mess.” He turned to Scorpius sympathetically, “I knew she’d come to her senses eventually, but a father does worry about these things.”

 _“Daddy!_ ”

“I’m sorry, baby, but any boy who runs head first, arse over tit, after you into a forest full of dark magic, and then lies to cover for you, is top notch in my book. You’re a tough kid, you’ll jump into any scrape you can, and I like knowing that there’s someone watching your dumb butt.” Scorpius finally found his voice, completely bemused and tickled that Ron Weasley was taking the piss out of his beloved daughter.

“I will take excellent care and keep a close watch of her dumb butt, sir,” Scorpius deadpanned with all the sincerity he could muster. Rose rounded on him, mouth gaping, and absolutely furious.

“Good man.” And they shook hands. “See, Rosie? You really don’t give me enough credit,” her father continued reproachfully. Rose threw up her hands, growling out her frustration stridently and stormed off, muttering about idiots and how she hated _everyone_. The moment she turned the corner and was out of earshot, both Scorpius and Ron Weasley doubled over, laughing.

Mr. Weasley snorted, “Seeing her angrier than a kelpie out of water will _never_ get old.”

“You’re _mad_ , sir, and I’m in for a world of trouble,” Scorpius laughed out. They straightened up, their guffawing fading out.

“Yeah, well, fun as it was, I did mean it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ve always suspected that you felt more for her than you let on.”

“Took a while to piece together.”

Mr. Weasley smiled, “Best things always do.” He clapped Scorpius on the shoulder. “Just take good care of her.” Scorpius was about to agree and promised to do so. “Or she’ll murder you and get her mad cousins to help her hide your body.”

“Oh, I’m very much aware of that.” He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Mr. Weasley? Would you mind—I mean to say, could you do us a favor and not mention anything about Rose and I to anyone?” Mr. Weasley arched a brow, but Scorpius shrugged. “I think she just wants as much privacy as she can have for a while. But…I also think that your accepting us will go a long way for her peace of mind.”

Mr. Weasley nodded slowly, starting to walk toward the sounds of his family, “Sure. For now. Can’t promise they won’t catch on though. That lot are a bunch of nosy wankers. Can’t keep a secret for shite either.”

“It’s just…new, is all.”

“She’s forgiven you for leaving, then?” he asked astutely.

“Ahm…she’s starting to. There’s a lot to move past. For the both of us.”

“Well, first thing to keep in mind is that she’s her mother’s daughter. Swear to Merlin, that girl can’t keep a feeling to herself or stop a rant once it’s got going.”

“Oh, I’m very much aware of that too.”

 “You just gotta keep running her down. Follow her, chase her, whatever. Or she’ll take all that righteous fury and bury you, do you understand?”

“More than I’d like to.”

They turned the corner to find Rose standing in the middle of her uncles, who were teasingly interrogating her. George kept poking at her, Charlie tugging her hair, and Bill was waggling his eyebrows, while Percy and Harry traded off asking questions. Scorpius froze, thinking that they’d realized she and him had snuck off. But her father was chuckling again.

“You would think that they’d gang up on Lily since she’s the youngest, but they always go for Rose.”

“Easy to rile up?” Scorpius offered.

“No, I think Lily has dirt on all of them and they’re terrified of hacking her off. Reminds me of my sister, that one…” They got close enough to hear that Harry wanted to know why she wasn’t bringing a respectable young man around for them to meet. Preferably a muggle or her grandad would cry.

“A respectable young woman is fine too,” Percy Weasley added.

Harry gasped, “Percy, are you suggesting that our baby Roselet can’t pull a decent red-blooded male?”

“Now, that’s a very antiquated attitude, Harry…”

“I think Rose would make a splendid lesbian,” George chimed in.

“Oh definitely, all the butch girls would go _mad_ for her!” Charlie laughed. Rose was shouting and swatting at all of them, earning more laughter than fear.

“Oi you lot!” Mr. Weasley called out at them, although Scorpius’ brain fought against calling him ‘Mr. Weasley’ in a group of men with the same moniker. “Piss off and leave my sprog alone.” This distracted them long enough for Rose to stomp on her Uncle Charlie’s foot, making him howl, and elbow her Uncle George in the stomach. Her other uncles grimaced and danced out of her range. Her father, however, looked at Scorpius in exasperation. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother. I was sidelined the day she learned to ride a broom.” 

Scorpius didn’t have a chance to respond though because with a toss of her long hair, Rose came to grab his hand and dragged him off to find her cousins, spitting her tongue out at her uncles who returned the gesture simultaneously as she went by.

“Really? And Mione says I’m the big man-child.”

“Oh no little brother,” Charlie intoned, “I’m definitely bigger.”

Harry shuffled over. “What were you talking to Scorpius about?” he asked looking over the rims of his glasses.

Ron smirked, “Just about how I’m always right and everyone should listen to me.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “I know I was just as shocked as you are.”

*

Most of the Weasley-Potters were too drunk to floo or apparate home, so they crashed for the night at the Burrow. Granny Weasley was so chuffed to have all her babies hanging around everywhere that she didn’t even mind all the spares. James even talked Donnie into staying, as Ava didn’t really seem to mind taking the boys home. So once again, they were an octet, sprawled out in the room that had been Ron Weasley’s as a boy (Granny insisted and James could never say no to his grandmother). Scorpius took in his new surroundings as they passed around a couple of joints.

“She really wasn’t joking about the orange,” he muttered to Al who blew smoke from his lips on a chuckle.

“Dad says Uncle Ron’s whole house would be orange if Aunt Mione weren’t so sensible.”

“Thank Merlin for Aunt Mione,” Fred said raising a bottle of butterbeer, in tribute. The others echoed the sentiment. _Hear, hear!_ Despite his contentment, Scorpius was still a little disappointed that Rose was two floors below with Allie, Delilah, and Lily. He could have sworn James looked irritated too, when Mrs. Potter told them very firmly that the young men and women would be split up by floor, their parents sleeping in rooms between them. But then, Scorpius long-suspected that James harbored a secret crush on his best friend’s sister. She was Lily’s year and a Hufflepuff, which made it complicated enough, and James had some silly rule about not dating his mates’ sisters. Scorpius was glad he had no such compunction.

“This is nice,” James said loudly from where he was sprawled out on the bed. “When’s the last time we even did this?”

“Smoked herb?” Lorcan tried.

“Or listened to you babble whilst high?” Lysander finished with a smirk. He got a pillow to the chest for his efforts.

“No,” James snapped, “Just hung around. You know, all of us, like this?”

There was a pause while they thought about it.

“Three years ago,” Al said finally, passing off the joint to Scorpius, “Right after we graduated and before Scorp ditched us for Chicago.”

“ _Really_?”

Al nodded sagely, “Donnie was in town for the wedding. Lorc and Ly were still finishing up their rotations with that whack-a-doodle doctor…”

“Dalia Kettleburn,” the twins intoned together.

“Right, the loony one. Frank was about to leave for training and research on that Island…”

“Bunaken,” Frank reminded them.

“Bornabaker,” Al repeated with mocking sincerity, “You and Freddie were fresh from Croatia…”

“Albania,” they corrected together.

“Right,” Al agreed, “My memory is impeccable. It was four days before Scorpius left for Chicago.” The rest simultaneously rolled their eyes and Al’s deliberate attempt to antagonize, but were slightly saddened by that realization.

“Bloody hell,” Donnie muttered, “I’ve really missed this.” His absence was more pronounced than anyone else’s. If he wasn’t working, then he was helping Ava with the boys. And the boys always came first.

“Three years is just too long,” Fred agreed. “I can’t believe Donnie’s got two kids.”

“I can’t believe Frank got trapped in a tomb in Tasmania.”

“I can’t believe that I got out,” Frank chuckled. “Or that mum didn’t murder me herself.”

“I can’t believe that these two,” Lorcan gestured between Fred and James, “Are supposed to be telling people not to break rules.” They all laughed at that. It was pretty unbelievable. They passed their respective bottles and joints around. Fred took a long pull of firewhiskey.

“I can’t believe Scorpius is getting off with my baby cousin,” James said strait-lacedly, looking up at the ceiling with a smirk. There were three spit takes and Lysander coughed so hard that he dropped the joint, at which Lorcan protested noisily. Scorpius, thankfully, had nothing in his hands or his mouth at the time otherwise he would have been in the same position. Beside him, Al’s shoulders were shaking as he tried to retrain his giggles. Scorpius shoved him.

“Merlin’s saggy tits, man!” Frank bellowed, “Warn a bloke when you’re going to say shite like that!”

“He’s not denying it,” James sang back, rolling smoothly onto his stomach to waggle his brows at Scorpius.

“You,” Scorpius said gravely, pointing at his stupid smiling face, “are an utter wanker, James Potter.”

“That’s not a no!”

“No, it’s a very true statement about your character.”

“Still not denying it.”

“Fuck’s sake, man, you’re a grindylow with a bit of meat.” James arched a brow. “ _Fine_ , yes, maybe.” They crowed. “But! Rose wants some bloody privacy from you lot so keep it to your bloody fucking selves.” Scorpius threw himself back onto the floor, head landing on some stray cushions. “Shite, she’s going to murder _everyone_.” Al patted his thigh sympathetically, but the others were hooting with laughter at his plight. Tossers. As if Ly wasn’t secretly seeing Lily whenever he was home and Al wasn’t routinely shagging Delilah Finnigan and James wasn’t in love with Allie. Lorcan was going to die alone, and Frank would never settle down if he could help it, but Fred’s new boyfriend was a sweetheart.

“Oh shut it,” Donnie said in defense, breaking up the laughter, “First of all cut it with that _baby_ shite, she’s a year younger than you Jamie.”

“Still _younger_.”

“And you _know_ Scorpius. Been mates for an age.”

“Which makes it all the more treacherous.” Behind him, Fred snorted loudly and was forced to duck James’ swinging arm. Apparently Scorpius wasn’t the only one with suspicions about Allie.

“Oh please, he’s a good bloke and he’s good for Rose. Haven’t seen her so happy since she hexed Raina Harrington’s arse raw during her Auror training.”

“Graphic,” Scorpius said mildly, “But, ta, Don.”

“Cheers.”

But then bickering broke out among the ranks. Donnie wanted to know why nobody ever told him anything. Lysander was wondering what the parameters on dating your mate’s sister/cousin were (he had a pointed interest). Lorcan was demanding to know when they let _women_ divide them. James agreed vehemently. Al was valiantly defending Scorpius, as usual. Fred thought it was all highly entertaining and was egging everyone on. Frank and Scorpius were both bored with the subject and were silently passing a joint back and forth.

“I think we’re all missing the bigger point!” Lorcan shouted over the din. Seven heads swiveled to where he stood, taking a long drag of the joint he’d swiped from Lysander. He held it between his teeth while he talked. “Malfoy here has been _withholding_!”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Scorpius started to protest as the others cheered and hooted. “Three of you are her _cousins_ you nasty blighters! And the rest of you might as well be!”

Donnie grabbed his foot and shook it in pity, “You may not have realized it, mate, but Rose was one of the most lusted after birds at school.” Al kicked him. “Sorry! But it’s true and you have been holding out…”

Scorpius tossed his hands in defeat, “It’s been less than a day! I didn’t even know where we stood until I showed up last night!”

James squawked, nearly falling from his place on the bed, “You _shagged_ my baby cousin, didn’t you?!” Scorpius bolted back to a sitting position, flailing with indignity.

“This whole conversation started because you assumed that I had!”

“Assuming isn’t _knowing_ , Malfoy! Merlin’s bollocks, who has the brain bleach?”

“You are infantile, my dear brother.”

“And you are a prig, _Albus_.”

“ _Okay_!” Scorpius shouted, jumping to his feet. “Rose and I are together. Yes, when I got in last night we shagged. No, I will not tell you anything about it. Yes, I’m in stupid bloody fucking love with her. Yes, we’ve worked out most of our shite. No, I am _not_ telling you why we fell out to begin with. And if you tell her I told you _any_ of this, I will dig out some nasty cursed object from my grandfather’s vaults and _murder all of you_. And yes, I do mean all. If one of you blabs, you’re all going to die. Simple as that.” With a dramatic flourish of his arms, he finished and flopped down onto the nearest pile of cushions. His friends all stared up at him with silent, wide eyes for a very long and heavy moment after he finished.

Then they started talking all at once and Scorpius covered his face with his hands.

*

Rose was faring much better with her cousins and friends two floors below.  Allie was braiding Lily’s hair and Delilah Finnigan’s was braiding Rose’s. It was a Weasley-Potter family fate for the girl cousins, long red hair that begged to be played with. As a rule, Rose and Lily avoided letting anyone touch their hair, but Allie and Delilah were exceptions. And the thing about girls, especially ones that had grown up together, is that they tell each other everything.

“Where’s Hugo at?” Allie asked Rose offhand. But it was Lily who answered.

“New girlfriend. Meeting her in Diagon for a bit. Supposed to be back soon.”

Quiet reigned for a moment as the girls processed this.

“I’m seeing Lysander,” Lily said casually with a furrow between her brows as Allie pulled her hair back. “Past six months, whenever he’s home.”

Delilah snorted, “I’ve been shagging Al for the last _year_.”

“He never told me that!” Rose protested with a pout. Her brain leaped back to his “chatting up Lorc and Ly’s American cousin” comment and she felt a flush of irritation. Dirty rotten liar.

Delilah scowled, “He wants it to be _private_.”

“Git,” Rose mumbled.

“Agreed,” the others intoned.

“James is afraid of Frank,” Allie said miserably.

“ _James_?” Lily gasped, turning around to face her best friend. “You, a gorgeous, majestic unicorn, are shagging my toad of a _brother_?”

Rose giggled when Allie flushed, “No,” she admitted quietly. “He _won’t_.”

“Ohhh,” the girls cooed, reaching out for her sympathetically. She sighed and picked Lily’s now-loose hair back up.

“I’ve decided all men are morons,” Lily announced haughtily, “Even Lysander. He’d rather have his hands shoved up in some dirty beast’s guts than in _me_.” The other three gagged for various reasons, complaining that she was being vulgar. Internally, Rose cheered her cousin’s imperious attitude toward her supposed boyfriend’s ridiculous career. The Scamanders were mad, running around all over without ever taking a break. And she wasn’t too far off in saying they preferred animals to people. Lorcan was a desperate case; he was a man obsessed. At least Lysander had a glimmer of hope. Maybe Lily would be the one to convince him. But even as she weighed her cousin’s words, Rose bit her lip thinking about her and Scorpius on the dock. Thinking about how seamlessly and fluidly they’d come together the night before. She was more than a little irritated that there were so many parents around. So many _cousins_ , actually, because Hugo was a prince for offering to cover for her if she wanted to sneak out. She really needed to go all out for his birthday.

“Not all of them…” Rose amended quietly, biting her lip as Delilah tugged thick portions of her hair. The tugging stopped. Rose resisted the impulse to turn and watch them swap silly looks and raised eyebrows. When she didn’t elaborate, Delilah sighed nosily.

“You know, Rosie, this is the part when you share with the class.”

“Especially since _we_ went first—Ow, bloody hell, Allie!”                          

“ _Shut it_!” Allie hissed through her teeth. But the damage was done. Rose groaned and brought her hands up to cover her face.

“Does _everyone_ know?” she demanded pathetically. Allie and Delilah started to make noncommittal sounds, trying to make it sound better than it was.

“Blimey, Rose, _yes_ every Weasley, Potter, Longbottom, _and_ the Joneses _and_ Smiths _and all_ their kneazles know that you and Scorpius Malfoy are shagging!” Lily informed her acerbically. The Potter girl was thrumming with energy, like her brothers often did. James was a constant ball of nerves, while Al had exhaustive enthusiasm for just about everything. Positive enthusiasm. Lily was sharp and cynical, a tough bird who didn’t take guff from anyone. She loved the absurd, she liked taking the piss, and she hated when people complained. She’d been sorted into Slytherin for a reason. And the thought made Rose laugh; she’d spent more of her time at school with Slytherins than Gryffindors.

“First of all, he only got home last night. So it’s more accurate to say that we _have_ shagged.”

“You did!?” Allie squeaked. Of the four of them, Allie Longbottom was the most innocent. That happened when your father was your school’s headmaster and your older brother was huge and terrifying. It was no wonder that James treated her like a delicate little flower who couldn’t keep her brother in check. James’ constant presence in her life probably hadn’t helped matters either; Rose was still suspicious about Jonathan Dorrit’s life-threatening bout of dragon pox in fourth after asking Allie out. Okay, men were mostly morons.

“Yes, _Alice_ , we shagged. Last night. Probably ten minutes after he showed up at my flat.”

“And for how _long_?” Delilah asked lasciviously, eyes widening in her eagerness. Rose blushed and worked her jaw.

“He is... _very_ attentive,” Rose admitted to the sound of their giggling. “And it had been a while—” she broke off with a giddy laugh through her nose. “We were excited to see each other.” The girls squealed violently, flailing their hands like idiots.

“How many?” Lily asked nudging her, but still looking forward so Allie could keep braiding.

“Rounds or—?”

“ _Galloping gargoyles!_ ” Delilah screeched, “You don’t even _know_ , do you?”

“For _him_ , maybe…” They squealed again and she batted her hands in their direction, trying to shush them. “Merlin’s tits, you’ll wake the whole house!” she hissed at them.

“So Scorpius passes muster, then. Good lad, knew he had it in him,” Lily said with no small amount of pride. Rose smiled over at her. From the first, Lily had adored Scorpius. He’d always taken her seriously and stopped James and Al from harassing her too much. Rose was convinced that for a while, when she was younger, Lily had adopted some of Scorpius’ expressions and mannerisms in an attempt at mimicry. Scorpius had that effect on people; you just wanted an ounce of the cavalier independence he exuded. Lily Potter, like the rest of her family, had always cared a little too much. Delilah dropped her head to look around at Rose as she situated the ends of her hair into a band. Looking at Delilah, Rose felt significantly less guilty about jumping into bed with Al’s best friend.

“How come you didn’t tell me anything about Al?” Rose asked quietly, gently even. Delilah shrugged.

“It was kind of nice, you know? Having something for ourselves for once. Al can’t sneeze without attracting some reporter’s attention. And you know how _overbearing_ my Da is.”

“Yeah,” Rose said, “but it’s _me_.” Delilah had the decency to look chagrined, pulling her lips in and looking very guilty about it. Rose wasn’t really _mad_ , she was just confused. Delilah brushed some stray hairs back from Rose’s face in a maternal gesture that Rose wasn’t willing to contemplate too much.

“Rosie,” she dropped her hands to her lap, fisting them tightly, “You just haven’t been…” She looked down. “I know how much being an Auror means to you, and that you needed to focus these past few years to get through training and everything, but…”

“Oh Merlin,” Rose breathed, “I suck.”

“No!” Delilah grabbed up her hands and gave them a good shake, “You’ve been ridiculously focused elsewhere. And I think…I think I knew when you left before graduation that something was really wrong and that everything was going to change…” She trailed off, squeezing Rose’s hands again, “You just wouldn’t _talk_ about it. And Al—”

“You said you’ve only been shagging him for a _year_!” she accused.

“I wasn’t lying! We have!” Delilah snapped back, but didn’t relinquish her hands. “We just ended up spending a lot of time together because you were always busy and Scorpius was gone. And then he was in Paris and _lonely_ and we wrote each other constantly.”

“Bloody buggering fuck,” Rose said as things clicked into place, “Al moved back home for _you_.” She said it loud enough to attract Lily and Allie’s attention, who were making faux scandalized faces out of amusement. Delilah looked to be fighting off a smile as she stared at her best friend, but her flushed cheeks and sparking brown eyes gave her away. When Al had quit his very estimable and comfortable post at the embassy in Paris, only Rose had been suspicious. Everyone else thought he was just coming to his senses, coming back to his family. The only person who may have had other thoughts was Uncle Harry, but Uncle Harry always knew everything even when he shouldn’t have. Al never told anyone why he, out of nowhere, was no longer enamored of Paris. All they knew was that he was much, much happier being back in London and never expressed a single doubt or regret about his decision to leave. “ _Shite_ ,” Rose said, inexorably amazed and pleased. On impulse, she threw her arms around her best friend, hugging the daylights out of her. Her best friend and favorite cousin were _in love_.

But honestly, why was it that Al could keep a three-year secret and Rose couldn’t keep one for even a day?

*

The next morning the breakfast table was crowded. Not everyone was eating a full breakfast, but they hung about in the dining area, drinking tea or coffee and recapping the previous night. While Lily had no qualms about sitting in Lysander’s lap, Al apparently thought it best to sit across from Delilah instead of next to her. And James sat at the opposite end of the table from Allie, pointedly ignoring her occasional forlorn look. Rose and Scorpius hung back though, serving themselves from the counter slowly.

“I have something to tell you,” they muttered at the same time. Both recoiled in surprise, blinking at each other.

“You first.”

“They know.”

“Who knows?”

“ _Them_ ,” Scorpius tipped his head toward where most of the boys sat.

“Oh, girls know too. Everybody knows.”

“ _Everybody?_ ”

“Everybody,” she confirmed, putting bacon on his plate. “Except maybe Aunt Luna, but she’s not in the country, so…”

As if Rose had magically summoned her, Luna Scamander’s sweet voice sang in from the back door, greeting everyone.

“Oh hello children!” she chirped airily, “And there are my boys,” she dropped kisses to the top of her sons’ heads, then cupped Lily’s cheek, “My little sunflower,” she cooed, “Lily Luna.” She kissed her goddaughter’s forehead and accepted hugs from Weasleys in her immediate area. Then she turned, probably looking for plates and blinked her owlish eyes blankly at Rose and Scorpius. She was wearing her long purple robes and her radish earrings, pale hair swept into a knot held by her wand. They both fidgeted under her scrutiny. “The two of you look very well together, did you know? In my travels, I’ve gotten quite good at spotting when a male and female of a species will breed well. And I think you will have very lovely children.”

The room had dropped to dead silence as everyone stared at them; Mr. and Mrs. Potter as well as three Mrs. Weasleys, including Rose’s mother, and several of the uncles. Her cousins were probably entertained to giddiness, but Rose was too busy gaping at her parents’ friend to even bother noticing Scorpius’ reaction. Salt to the wound, she just knew that her whole face was red. Fred’s stifled snort and the rustle of someone kicking his leg snapped Rose out of her shock.

“Thanks Aunt Luna,” she responded mechanically. Aunt Luna smiled widely at her and patted her cheek.

“Harry,” Mrs. Scamander called out, whirling around, “I found something in Mecklenburg that I thought you might like.” Mr. Potter came around the table, slinging an arm around her shoulder and kissing her cheek.

“You are a _treasure_ , Luna,” he told her meaningfully, looking over his shoulder to wink at Rose, who, if possible, blushed harder.

“How strange you should say that…” She walked with Mr. Potter out of the kitchen, babbling, leaving utter silence in her wake. The spell finally broke when Rose and Scorpius blinked out of their shellshock and looked at each other.

“Well she knows now,” Scorpius offered uselessly. The tension in the room snapped and the whole crowd of them erupted in uproarious laughter. Rose just stood in front of Scorpius and they shook with silent laughter, eyes locked on each other.

“Did you see his face?” Fred asked through his guffaws, “Looked like he just shat himself!” His laughter wasn’t even interrupted when his mother thwacked him across the back of his head, scolding him for being vulgar at his grandparent’s table.

After that, Rose and Scorpius didn’t bother separating for the sake of appearances. They went to the end of the table where Al and Delilah were and shared the short side, and ignored all the bemused looks sent in their direction. The rest of breakfast was relatively sedate, though everyone had a lot of questions for Scorpius about his plans. And because they were mostly Weasleys, they were mostly nosy and direct.

“No, I haven’t got a place to live yet. I’ll stay with my parents for now…yes, the job’s on the board…no, I won’t have much business with Hogwarts specifically, as far as I know…I’m sure I can handle Professor Longbottom just fine, Louis, thank you…Well, I’m not exactly heading a department or directing the whole operation, Frank…I’m hoping for more fieldwork, but I’m sure there’s a strong administrative element too… _No_ James…because I said _no_.”

If Rose had been worried that Scorpius couldn’t handle her family in bulk, then she was a prize idiot. He’d never done it all in one go, but he’d dealt with them in chunks and doses for most of his life. The first rule of dealing with Weasley-Potters was to be honest and to never, ever show your embarrassment. Rose failed spectacularly in the latter, and so she was usually ganged up on. But Scorpius was so level headed, unfazed by their rude interrogations and completely ill-mannered reactions. And she realized, sitting next to him while he talked openly with them about his doubts regarding several educational methods currently in place, that he was a _calming_ presence. And maybe that was why all of the highly energetic Potters took to him so quickly. He was steady and even and his voice was soothing. Under the table, she slid her hand onto his thigh, and turned to drop her nose to his shoulder, nuzzling there.

Eventually, interest in specifics about Scorpius waned and smaller conversations broke out. Everyone was mostly finished with their food, simply re-filling or nursing tea as they chatted. Scorpius had his arm around the back of her chair, twisting and playing with her hair, and Rose leaned into him.

“I have to get going soon,” he murmured quietly. She grumbled her protest, but he chuckled. “I’ll get quite the lecture if I wait too long to let my parents know I’m here.”

“Ergh, I know.”

“And you are _not_ coming with.”

“I’m on duty anyway,” she sniped.

“Rose…” She grunted. “Honestly, my grandparents could be there. Or worse, one of dad’s school friends. He doesn’t see them very often, but sometimes they come around. And you haven’t even met my parents yet, so I would rather get my life in order and _then_ tell them I’m shagging Ron Weasley’s daughter.”

She could help but let a giggle slip, “Just his? Not Hermione Granger-Weasley’s daughter?”

He reached for his pumpkin juice, mouth shrugging, “No, they like your mum just fine.”

“That’s messed up and I want to fight about it, but I really don’t want to fight about it.”

“Then let’s not fight about it.”

“Deal.” They shook on it. Rose snuck a sneaky glance, honed by years of needing subterfuge, and leaned up to kiss him swiftly before anyone saw and commented. But she was unsuccessful.

“We saw that,” at least six of her cousins synchronized. She chuckled, but she wasn’t really paying attention. Rose was too busy taking in the flecks of yellow in Scorpius’ gray eyes.

“Come back to mine first?” She bit her lip hopefully, letting her hand drift to his inner thigh. Rose knew he’d cave when his eyes flicked down to her lips.

Scorpius didn’t see his parents for another week.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this update has been a long time coming. Sorry to those who were waiting!

Scorpius could have gone the rest of his life without going to a Ministry function. They were too close to being family reunions, and he’d suffered through far too many of those. He’d received his own invitation, and was all set to bin it and forget the whole thing until Rose mentioned getting her own invite. Unfortunately, between Rose and Al, there was no way he could have begged off. He could see that Al was all set to launch into a lecture about networking and making appearances, putting effort into his new position, but Rose’s argument was simply more effective.

“If I have to go, you have to go.”

Rose wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of going to some Ministry gala either. But the director of the DMLE had made it clear to Mr. Potter that he wanted as many of his staff in attendance, schedules permitting. Rose couldn’t say no to her godfather, which meant Scorpius had to suffer for it. He was just an undersecretary, so he had the sneaking suspicion he’d only been invited because of his connection to Rose. It was just underhanded enough to ensure her presence there without all the fuss.

So there he was on a perfectly fine evening that would have been better spent elsewhere, in private, with Rose. Doing private things. Except that he was dressed up, surrounded by hundreds of people, with Rose on his arm and Al on his left. Much to his amusement, Al finally caved and invited Delilah Finnigan along as his date. Rose was delighted, but Scorpius thought he was a ponce for keeping it under wraps for so long. All of this was difficult to focus on, however, because Scorpius was far too distracted by his own date. She wore a deep blue gown that seemed to float and have a life of its own. Her hair was twisted up in a complicated array of whorls and folds. She’d even put on heels so they were nearly even in height. Her neckline was modest, but the back dipped lower than strictly necessary, and he was having a time of it trying to ignore the way the skirt bunched and draped over her legs. _Distracting_ didn’t quite cover it. Scorpius himself had opted for a dove gray muggle suit with a matching waist coat and a tie charmed the same color as Rose’s dress. Skinny lapels, faint white pinstripes, dark black-green dragon scale belt and shoes, and a crisp white dress shirt. He carried the fob watch his parents had given to him when he came of age, the chain pinned to his waistcoat. Scorpius was no slouch when it came to these events, but even he was confused about Delilah’s initial response.

“Well we know Rose is going to make a fool of herself tonight.”

The only person more confused by that than Scorpius was Al. Delilah laughed at the both of them. Scorpius was starting to think she’d gone mental. But he had bigger concerns than Delilah’s vague nonsense. He was finding brand new reasons to hate Ministry functions on the whole and this gala in particular. The place was crawling with men, some single most not, and a large portion of them were staring at Rose.

Now, Scorpius was a sensible person. Obviously not _everyone_ was staring at her. A few passed her over appreciatively, some did more than pass, and a handful positively leered. Two or three of them might have been fine, but five or six and most of them were married? A sharp streak of anger burned through him. He moved his arm down around the small of her back, hand resting on her hip. She canted her head at him with no small amount of amusement, but she wasn’t throwing him off either, so there was that. Rose pulled him through the throngs of people to mingle; he met a lot of her co-workers, including her partners, Jason Highborn, who was evidently a Slytherin in James’ year, but Scorpius couldn’t remember ever seeing him and Cecilia Chase, a Ravenclaw Scorpius definitely _did_ remember. Al made a sly reference as to _how_ Scorpius remembered her only to get cuffed upside the head by Delilah (who obviously knew way too much). Scorpius was also introduced to a plethora of Weasley-Potter family friends, including the Prime Minister, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet, the owner of the Holyhead Harpies (along with several other team owners and managers), and Dennis Creevey who was slotted to become Director of the Department of Mysteries. They had a brief conversation that had Scorpius sweating bullets.

“Malfoy? This is Draco’s son then,” Mr. Creevey said amiably, not a trace of hostility in his voice. That, in and of itself, was enough for Scorpius to like him. Most people flinched or frowned. He shook Scorpius’ hand with a smirk. “I’ve heard some… _interesting_ things about you.” Scorpius blanched, remembering a conversation with Mr. Potter in his sixth year. _Dennis Creevey…he works in the Department of Mysteries, you know…_

“What are you on about Uncle Den?” Al demanded laughingly. “You sound like a smarmy old creep!” The director apparent didn’t take offense to this though. He just tipped his head back and laughed, and told Al that he ought to mind his betters.

“You mean _elders_ , don’t you?” Al shot back. Mr. Creevey mussed his hair with a pinched expression.

“Cheeky sod. Bad as Ginny was back in the day…Who am I kidding, bad as Ginny is _now_.” This made Rose and Al chuckle appreciatively, but Mr. Creevey’s gaze swiveled back to Scorpius. “No, no, I’ve heard that your patronus form is quite spectacular.”

“Hardly, sir,” Scorpius said evenly, sipping at his wine to stave off a wave of panic. His friends looked at him oddly, probably trying to remember what he’d told them about his form during school. Not like it was a common topic they discussed. Scorpius had hardly given it a second thought since then.

“Oh, I think you’re being modest, Mr. Malfoy. When Harry Potter knocks on my door to specifically mention something so remarkable, you can bet the vault it’s remarkable. As you might imagine, Harry’s not easy to impress anymore.”

Scorpius cleared his throat, “That’s kind of you to say…” He pointedly ignored Rose’s curious look and kept his focus on Mr. Creevey.

“It’s entirely self-serving, my boy, I assure you. I’d like to pick your brain, if you’re up for it. My specialty is in the patronus charm, you know, so I consider forms to be a fascinating side hobby. And _yours_ well…” he whistled, shaking his head.

“I’m sure it’s fairly common,” Scorpius interposed quickly, hoping that the subject would drop. It didn’t. Mr. Creevey laughed.

“I should think not! Hasn’t appeared in centuries. Not since the Founders, at any rate. You do know that the Hogwarts Founders used their animagus forms for their respective house mascots?”

“I didn’t know that,” Al chimed in, actually interested.

“Indeed they did. And it’s a well-known phenomenon that animagus and patronus forms are near identical for a person.”

“I’d heard that,” Rose said excitedly. “Uncle Harry’s trying to form a policy that Aurors have to be study to be animagi if they make the cut.” She shrugged, “Like if your form’s a bird or a cat or something that can blend in. Obviously I’m not on the list.” She laughed. “Lions don’t exactly just pop in to London.” Al and Delilah teased her a little, discussing all of the unruly situations she could find herself in. But Mr. Creevey’s eyes were on Scorpius, twinkling mischievously. Scorpius shook his head slightly, hoping that it conveyed how much he didn’t want Rose to know what his form was.

“I don’t know, Rose,” Mr. Creevey mused over the rim of his wineglass. “Lions might be more common than you think.” Scorpius clenched his jaw to keep from shouting, but Rose just cackled.

“At the _zoo_ maybe! Don’t be ridiculous!”

Scorpius felt the knot in his chest loosen as the topic changed. Then Mr. Creevey was called away by his wife, so the foursome moved onto other pastures. Over the course of the next couple of hours, Scorpius found himself recounting the same anecdotes and qualifiers about his time in America and his plans now that he’d returned a dozen times over. Everyone seemed to be impressed that he’d spent such a length of time in the United States, even though it wasn’t uncommon for people their age to spend time abroad. Rose figured that it was just something about _America_ itself that sounded impressive. Everything there had always seemed bigger and more impressive.

“I mean, think about it, the United Kingdom has one magical school with the proper certifications. The US has over half a dozen now. And I heard they are trying to establish one _just_ for Spanish-speaking immigrants. Isn’t that mad?”

 Scorpius assumed that everyone had a more sinister motivation for asking. He knew very well that everyone had expected him to stay and take over his father’s company; to do as he was told and marry a pureblooded girl so as to assume his rightful place as the Malfoy heir. To his mind, that just wasn’t on. For most Brits, the United States of America was a vast melting pot of different kinds coming together. Americans didn’t really hold to the idea of blood purity, as most of their ancestors had left Europe specifically to get away from that kind of thing. Their magic was a cacophony of different styles and persuasions, and you rarely met two people who had the same standards or ideas about style and practicum. Their teaching methods were piece meals of a wide range of cultures. It was _new_. It was _different_. It broke a lot of the molds and standards that wizarding families like the Malfoys had always clung to. That Scorpius had spent three years there studying and was no bringing those concepts into the Department of Education was something of a shock and oddity. It certainly didn’t help that Rose Weasley was all but stitched onto his arm and Albus Potter was beaming at him like Scorpius was his firstborn and favorite child. _Hogwarts_ had become accustomed to their dynamic. The wizarding community at large was just starting to get a taste of it.

But soon enough their group was pulled in different directions. Delilah wanted to introduce Al to a writer her boss was working with. Mrs. Granger-Weasley swooped in to snatch her daughter for some higher-up mingling, not before kissing Scorpius’ cheek like she did so often with Hugo and her nephews. Scorpius didn’t register Rose’s absence at first because he was embroiled in a discussion with someone from Al’s office about educational standards in various countries, and how absurd it was that anyone would try to make them unilateral. It simply didn’t make sense for students at Hogwarts to learn the same way students at Uagadou or Mahoutokoro learned. The needs and the traditions were vastly different. Education at Hogwarts was very much generalized because the surrounding country was filled with muggles, and you simply couldn’t operate without taking muggles into consideration. There were few, if any, purely wizarding communities and so there was no avoiding them. Therefore UK students needed to know a wider range of materials in order to compensate for that. Uagadou students rarely if ever encountered a muggle community. They had wide spaces and well-populated wizarding _cities_ so their emphasis on human transfiguration was a valid one. Al’s colleague seemed to think that UK students would greatly benefit from an exchange program of some sort, one that went beyond the Triwizard Tournament. Scorpius was on the verge of agreement, when he caught Rose in the corner of his eye. She quickly had the whole of his attention.

She’d finished with her mother’s request, obviously, and seemed to have been making her way back to where she’d left him, but was intercepted by a group of three men. One Scorpius recognized as Fred’s partner in the Auror department, the other two screamed “lower-rung” ministry officials. They were all young, tidy, and attractive. One of the ministry goons seemed to have a valid question to ask her, but the other, standing at her side, hardly glanced at her face even once. And Fred’s partner was standing far too close. She engaged the first, studiously ignored the second, and appeared irked with the third. He kept touching her arm when he talked, and Scorpius watched her outwardly ignore this too. Scorpius didn’t start seeing red until the man’s hand came to her bare middle back and smiled at her. Rose was absolutely comfortable with physical contact; it was a side effect of having so many cousins near her age, lifelong friends, and affectionate adults and caregivers in her life. So she didn’t exactly _react_ to her colleague’s hand on her, but Scorpius did. It was sixth year all over again, seeing the cavalier way their male classmates treated her. Seeing the easy manner Duncan Nash had had with her for those few short months. Even then it had irked him somewhat. Back then, she was Al’s beloved _cousin_ , someone to be treated with respect (if teased and provoked on occasion), and not someone that any brainless git should have easy access to. In the present, however, Scorpius recognized his irritation for what it was, and what it had probably always been.  He tersely excused himself from his conversation and made a bee line in her direction.

Rose was midsentence when he approached, discreetly trying to maneuver herself away from the hand on her back. But she was speaking with one of the others. _Quentin Taylor,_ his brain finally supplied, _works under her grandfather in Misuse_. None of this, however, stopped him from removing the other Auror’s hand from her back and pulling her to his side.

“Scuse us, lads,” he said feigning lightness, “But Weasley owes me a dance.” No one got a word in edgewise before he was hauling her off in the direction of the dancing couples. Though describing it as such was uncharitable to him since she was going all too willingly. He was forced to release her waist and settle for her hand as they wove through the groups of people, so he couldn’t exactly gauge her reaction. But by the time he’d gotten them to the middle of the floor and pulled her back into his arms, she was laughing silently.

“Jealous git,” she hissed in his ear, curling her hand around the back of his neck. He dropped his head and nosed at the curve where her shoulder met her neck.

“Don’t know what you mean,” he murmured against her skin. He felt her torso shake with laughter.

“You do know your father’s here, right? What’s he going to think of you hauling me about like a jealous Neanderthal?” The music was playing at a moderate pace and some of the surrounding couples were dancing formally. Scorpius kept their movements slow and tight, not requiring too much effort or attention. He actually hadn’t seen his father yet, mostly because he would be attending with Scorpius’ mother, and Astoria Malfoy was a notorious late arriver.

“I imagine,” he answered lowly, fitting his hand more firmly against the small of her back, “that like most of the men, and probably most of the women, in this room, he will see I’ve good reason to.”

“So you’re just going to embarrass me every time someone stands too close?” she scoffed lightly. If he’d thought for a moment that she was actually upset by it, he would have apologized. His brusqueness had been relatively impulsive, but he didn’t feel truly ashamed of it. After all, he’d had plenty of valid reasons for not wanting to attend the gala in the first place. Watching other men sniff around his girlfriend was near the top of the list.

“At least until I’ve made my point,” he answered smugly.

“That you’re a jealous git?” she prompted sweetly with a head tilt.

“That I don’t _share_.”

He watched her fight off a true grin unsuccessfully, “Rotten only child.”

“Oh, definitely,” he deadpanned. Rose gave up at that, leaning back in the brace of his arms to laugh. Satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he held her weight. People could complain and mock him all they wanted, but he had a feeling that the boorishness wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It was too easy a feeling to cave into, especially now that he had her so close. Now that they knew her father wouldn’t murder him and his parents adored her. Now that the only real distance between them was separate flats, kept mostly for propriety’s sake because he rarely if ever spent a night at his. There had literally been an ocean between them for three years, and he wasn’t about to relinquish any of the ground they’d covered in the last few months. Her hand tightened in his as she curled back into him. But then the music changed to a faster waltz and he smirked as the couples around them whirled into a more elegant style of dancing. Rose must have caught the glint in his eye, but didn’t manage a protest before he maneuvered them into the fray of couples moving in tandem. She did squeak, though, which was hilarious.

“Hold on,” he teased, leading her into broader steps. One of the few advantages of his pureblood-elite heritage was that his father insisted that he learn every rule of polite wizarding society. Among the proper utensils, greetings, topics of conversation, and formal thank you’s, was learning how to dance in a ballroom. And since his parents had strong-armed him into dozens of formal family occasions and galas and balls and parties, Scorpius had had more than his fair share of practice. Luckily, Rose was a very physical creature, and picked up his cues with ease. There was a moment when Scorpius thought she might struggle with a strong lead, that she wouldn’t give up control too quickly, but he soon realized that Rose would allow herself to be led places where she wanted to go. And she definitely wanted to go anywhere Scorpius was leading.

As usual, Scorpius was among the youngest of the men on the floor. So when the music finished and people applauded the band, he quickly noticed that they had caught the attention of several women, their age and some older, and that at least two were headed in their direction. Such was his life that women were forever trying to wrangle him onto a dancefloor. Discreetly, he ushered Rose in the opposite direction, toward the patio and garden where they might have some privacy. And, you know, avoid eager middle-aged women and handsy colleagues.

Apparently other couples had been thinking in the same direction, so they weren’t precisely alone, but they weren’t crowded in by a bunch of people either. Once they cleared the doorway, Rose immediately stopped and slid out of her shoes, preferring to hold them instead. He took them from her so she could hold up her skirts, which now brushed against her toes. He teased her for being short, and she shot back that he’d obviously been a giraffe in a former life. The people around them were amused by their little exchange, but Rose was completely oblivious to their looks. Scorpius was not, and jealously guided her over to the direction of the banister that overlooked the garden. It was thick Cornish granite, wide enough to sit on, so naturally Rose did. She pulled herself up easily, and swung her legs over the side to dangle. Scorpius stood behind her, setting her shoes on the ledge, and put his arms around her waist and chin on her shoulder. It had quickly become a familiar position for them; it was the speediest way to soothe each other’s nerves. Rose had finally fessed up about her dream, about her strange reaction to being touched there. Scorpius told her what he remembered of their short journey on Buckbeak’s back, telling her that he’d probably passed out behind her. All Rose remembered was that she’d felt safe. Scorpius didn’t care one way or another, he just liked having her close. He noticed the wrinkle in her brow.

“What are you mulling over?” he asked her quietly, curving to the side just so in order to block them from an onlooker’s view. Rose hummed and leaned back against him, hands covering his forearms.

“What Uncle Den was saying earlier.”

Scorpius didn’t miss a beat. “How many men do you call ‘uncle,’ do you think? Ten? Twenty?” He kept his voice light and mocking, but he couldn’t control the way his arms tightened around her. There was no way that her Auror-trained senses missed it.

“Certainly more,” she answered evenly. “I was just thinking that we didn’t have Defence together that year, and I don’t remember you telling me your form. But surely you did. And if Uncle Harry was so impressed, he might have said…” she trailed off, and he let his eyes drift shut as her nails softly raked along his skin. “But I can’t remember.”

While they were in school, Scorpius had a valid excuse to keep her ignorant on this subject. He’d gone out of his way to hide it not only from her, but from his friends as well. Freddie was a slip that he hadn’t predicted, but as far as Scorpius knew, he’d never said a word to anyone. But now they were at a different crossroads. It was just the two of them, no miscommunication, no misunderstandings. He was struggling to find a reason to keep it from her now, although the impulse was still strong. No matter what Mr. Potter had said, it was a weighty thing, and he’d always known that Rose didn’t respond well to being told what to do. But, he supposed, willfully keeping it from her was just another way of denying her a choice. He sighed shakily, inhaling the clean-smelling perfume she’d put on.

“You don’t remember because I didn’t tell you.”

She wrinkled her nose, “Really?”

“Really. I didn’t tell anyone, actually. Mr. Potter knows because I cast it for him. A slew of Ravenclaws and Slytherins know because they were there. And Fred found out through nefarious means, so that doesn’t count…”

“ _Al_ doesn’t know?” she asked, turning her head to confirm it for herself. He just shook his head. “Well it can’t be _that_ embarrassing if Uncle Harry was impressed. But Den was talking about the Founders, so it’s got to be something _really_ Slytherin, hasn’t it?” Scorpius snorted at the irony. “Don’t laugh! I’m being serious, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it, if it is. It would make sense, actually.”

“Yes,” he sighed ruefully, “I suppose it would. But—I think I should just show you.” If possible, her brow furrowed deeper while he retracted his wand hand from her waist and tapped on his cufflink which transfigured into his wand. Nifty little trick he’d picked up from an American professor. He casted the charm quietly, under his breath, not needing much to produce a full form anymore. It came from an easy, reachable place. Effortless. His lion raced forth, prowling contentedly in the open air in front of him. Encased in his one arm, Rose went very still, her breath hitching as she drank in the sight of the big silvery cat. Scorpius had to admit, the mane really was impressive, and the facial features were far more striking than they had been five years before. Visceral. Palpable. Animated. Even as it faded from view, prompting a smattering applause from other guests nearby, Rose remained silent. Not his favorite version of Rose ever, but he supposed she deserved a moment to process.

“When Den said _impressive_ , he didn’t mean in your ability,” she whispered finally, staring straight ahead.

“No.”

“That’s not why he wanted to pick your brain.”

“Not really, no. Though, to be fair, I did cast a full body the summer after fourth.”

Silence.

Scorpius bit his lip and slid his wand back into its discreet hiding place, holding his cuff together. Rose was working her jaw, chest heaving slowly in an effort to keep her breathing steady. He briefly thought she might need some space, but when he tried to slip his other arm away, she tightened her hold on it. Right then, staying put, waiting quietly. One day he’d figure out how she operated, but until then he was stuck reading her vague hints. She inhaled sharply. Mouth opening and closing, then opening again.

“You _idiot_ ,” Rose breathed out in a rush. Scorpius wanted to laugh, because really? That was it? But he forced himself to stay quiet as to not upset her more.  Still, he wasn’t prepared for her to swing her feet up onto the ledge so she could turn and kiss him. Actually, he’d expected shouting. Storming off. Maybe a slap. Not this, though. He was starting to discover that many of Rose’s surprises were pleasant instead of life-threatening or harrowing. This was one of them. He brought an arm around the outside of her to keep her steady there, but still pulled back. They had an audience after all. Her expression was a veritable mess of emotions, and he was sure that not even _she_ knew what she was feeling right then. Probably something between excitement and nausea. Which made perfect sense to him, and he’d been sitting on this information a lot longer.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” she muttered, lips mere centimeters from his. He caught them in another rough kiss. Rose rumbled a bit when he pulled away.

“You fancied Duncan Nash at the time.”

She frowned and shot back stubbornly, “Wouldn’t have if you’d said.” And he actually did roll his eyes at that.

“Really? You would have been totally fine with it sixth year? With me like I was? The pair of us constantly at each other’s throats?”

“It was _not_ constant.”

“Near enough.”

“Only because I liked watching you lose your temper.”

“Only because I liked provoking you until you made me lose my temper.”

She smiled broadly up at him, lacing her fingers at the back of his neck, “Just as long as you’re taking all the blame.” Scorpius wrinkled his nose playfully and angled his head to kiss her again. It was easily Scorpius’ favorite Rose-related activity. The sex was great. The sex was _spectacular_.  It was just that the kissing was softer; the kissing could happen almost anywhere, the kissing could lead to sex. There was potential coupled with the closeness and the intimacy. It wasn’t a basic need or a wild impulse; there was want and intent.

“We should get back,” he rasped out, nuzzling against her cheek.

“Of course,” she said pressing her lips to his again, a gentle, affectionate meshing. “Wouldn’t want your husband to worry.” Even as he pulled away with a scowl, Rose was smiling at him, eyes wrinkled up in her amusement. “You _are_ basically married, you know.” She swung her legs again so that she was facing him and smoothed down his already-straight lapels. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s adorable, really, but a girl does get jealous.”  He rolled his eyes, fondly exasperated.

 “I say one thing…”

She snorted, “The first thing you said after we shagged the first time was _But what about Al?”_

 _“_ The timing was regrettable.”

“Excruciatingly.”

“ _But_ ,” he countered, thumb stroking her cheekbone, “I think I’ve more than made amends.”

Rose’s tongue rolled out, mischievously licking her lips to barely mask a leer, her hands coming to cup his neck, “Well, you tell your spouse whatever you want, just don’t lie to the side chick.” 

“Oohhhh, you are definitely gonna pay for that one,” he muttered. Before she could snap back, he swept her off the ledge into his arms, making her giggle like mad. She curled into him easily, not struggling, but dramatically tipping her head back.

“The headlines tomorrow will read _Malfoy seduces a Weasley_. Oh no,” she deadpanned blandly, “whatever will I do?” He dipped her so she could grab her shoes and they walked over to the entrance. The others guests were baffled, some chuckling their appreciation. When they got through the door neither one of them noticed if there were photographers or people staring. Scorpius set her deftly back to her feet, and she roughly used him so she could get her shoes back on. He wondered aloud if it was more uncomfortable trying to put them back on, having taken them off. Rose rolled her eyes.

“Cushioning charm.”

“Ah.” He tilted his head. “So why take them off to begin with?”

“I hate being tall,” she deadpanned as she adjusted her heel in the shoe. When she looked up and saw his confusion, she laughed in his face. “I don’t know! It’s more fun being barefoot when you’re not supposed to be.” With a heavy, beleaguered sigh, Scorpius drew her arm through his, pulling her in close again. She leaned heavily into his side, arms wrapped around his. He kissed the side of her head.

“I love you, you deranged woman.”

Scorpius didn’t see her smile, but he heard it in her voice.

“I know.”

The next morning when The _Prophet_ ’s headline read _Rose Weasley and Malfoy heir share a Cinderella Moment_ , accompanied by a picture of Rose’s heeled foot on Scorpius’ thigh as he secured the strap, Rose’s only comment was that the wizarding newspapers were so much more imaginative and referential with muggleborn writers at the helm.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once I was twenty years old, my story got told

“What the bloody hell is this?” Rose Weasley demanded, throwing the _Daily Prophet_ at a seated Scorpius’chest. He’d been attempting to read a letter from Frank after James’ panicked note regarding Frank’s latest trip to St. Mungo’s. Unfortunately, Frank didn’t often to listen to sense from anyone, let alone James Potter, and had accepted a dangerous contract too soon after being injured the last time. And Frank was sulking because his younger sister was seeing James. Allie Longbottom was quite a woman, in Scorpius’ opinion, and if she caught whiff that Frank had his knickers in a twist, everyone was going to get an earful. Internally, he hadn’t stopped sighing for the last hour, and had been contemplating how to respond to both the frantic James and the irate Frank. Where was Fred in all this? No one seemed to know. Why couldn’t Al figure out how to handle his brother? Scorpius could never discern. Donnie was too busy with the new baby, and the Scamanders were in Iceland studying the anatomy of griffins as compared to hippogriffs. Why anyone cared about the slight anatomical differences, he would never, ever know. So that left Scorpius to deal with the squabble.

Except now his irate girlfriend was throwing newspapers at him and going very nasal, which was never a good sign. Raising his eyebrows, he collected the paper from his lap and spread it out across the table, not taking his gaze from her face as he did so. Rose was now in what Scorpius had come to recognize as the “Hermione Granger-Weasley Stance of Doom.” Mouth in a tight line, brows shot straight up, arms crossed, hip jutted out, weight on one straight leg, the other bent. He’d seen the Weasley mum do it once, and it was a much, much scarier version. Scorpius could only imagine how terrifying Rose could get with practice. Instead of dwelling on this, he dropped his gaze to the newspaper to read the tertiary headline: _MALFOY HEIR TO PROPOSE_. Beneath the headline was a photograph of Scorpius at the Jordans’ jewelry shop three days previous. In the short article was a discussion about Scorpius’ rumored relationships (yes, there was more than one) and the price range of rings he was browsing along with descriptive passages about each one he’d pulled out. Bloody. Hell. Rose was still glaring. _Snarling_ was the more accurate term, actually.

“So? Anything to say for yourself?” With a sigh, Scorpius folded the paper back up, holding it in his hand and wandlessly set it on fire. He brushed off his hands to the side of the table. Rose looked furious.

“Rose,” he said slowly, trying not to sound too condescending, “Do you remember our conversation last week about my cousin Liam?”

“Liam…Liam Martin, your Aunt Daphne’s son?” Rose, despite her huge family, still had trouble remembering all of _his_ cousins. His Great-Grandfather Malfoy had nine brothers, who’d for the most part, had more than three children each. And the Blacks had hundreds of distant relatives through marriage, some of which included Weasleys. In total, Scorpius had four cousins named Liam.

“The very one,” he said getting up from the table to perch his hip on the side, “We were talking about his relationship with Hazel Fletchley?”

“Hazel? _Ohhhh_ …”

He tried not to smirk at her. Liam, a Beauxbatons graduate four years their senior had started seeing Hazel Fletchely, a Ravenclaw in Lily’s year, soon after she graduated from Hogwarts. Not everyone had approved of the relationship, especially not her father Justin Finch-Fletchley, war hero Order of Merlin second class and former classmate of their parents. Liam had been put through the wringer, especially by Hazel’s godfather, Ernie MacMillan, current owner of MacMillan, Inc., wizarding glass producer and supplier for Europe and East Asia (though he was doing his damnedest to break into the southern and western regions of the continent) and Donnie’s father. No matter how often Scorpius had pleaded his cousin’s case, it was brushed off with an argument about age difference. But once everything had settled down, Hazel had begun to believe that Liam would leave her for someone more mature, someone worldlier, or that her family would scare him off. Liam, at a loss as to how to prove himself to her, had decided to _propose_. Scorpius told Rose that Liam was a bloody fool, completely idiotic to do something so drastic.

“Yes,” he agreed, “ _Oh_.”

“But you—?”

“Were helping him look for a ring. Man has atrocious taste, and I wouldn’t blame Hazel for ditching him because of it.”

“That’s—”

He waved her off, “Unkind. I know. But you also know how I feel about him proposing.”

“You think it’s stupid.” Scorpius could see the tight lines around her eyes, the way she’d formed the word deliberately. And even if he thought his cousin was, _Scorpius_ was not stupid.

“I think it’s _premature_.  I think he’s doing it to keep her. I think he hasn’t thought it through.”

“And you need all of that to want to spend the rest of your life with someone?” she demanded brusquely, she dragged a chair out as she did so. Scorpius stood even as Rose sat down, a little game they played when they argued. Whoever was sitting was in control. They often switched roles repeatedly in one row, to the point that neither one knew who was actually winning.

“Of course,” he told her crossing his arms as hers spread to rest on the table.

“So everything about a relationship should be thought out and done in correct time? Where’s the spontaneity in that? Where’s the passion?” she asked coolly. Her posture completely relaxed, but her tone was biting. _Ah_. She’d come here with _expectations_. She’d come here in anticipation. Angry, yes, but possibly only because the Prophet had ruined her fun. Scorpius hid his amusement.

“Absolutely it should. A partnership requires careful forethought, an understanding between both parties, for them to be on the same page.”

“And how is it that one can know _exactly_ the innermost thoughts of another person?”

“I suppose that one would have to ask.”

“So we come back round to the question of passion. If you’re constantly bogging down your connection by analyzing every little thing, there’s no room to be spontaneous or to just express how you feel! How can any partnership, romantic or otherwise, survive without passion? Without that joy and excitement and _feeling_?”

“I think you’re obfuscating the point with mawkishness. You suggest that passion and feeling can only be expressed in one manner, which is fundamentally untrue.”

“I disagree, I think you feel things or you don’t. Which is why I think it’s _romantic_ that Liam’s proposing to keep Hazel in his life. He loves her and wants to prove himself to her.”

“I never said he didn’t love her,” Scorpius clarified firmly.

“But you’re suggesting that he’s only doing it because she might leave him!”

“I’m not suggesting it, Rose, I’m saying it. Before their argument about him not taking her seriously, marriage was the furthest thing from his mind.”

“So their argument made him realize that’s what he wanted,” she reasoned obstinately.

“ _No_ ,” he insisted, a nail digging into the flesh of his upper arm to keep his voice steady. “It made him realize that their relationship was imbalanced, and that he had all of the power.” She kept her blue eyes firmly on him, breathing heavily. “He realized that she would never be sure of their relationship unless she was given undeniable proof of their equality.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

He raised his brows, “Have you ever needed me to prove that I know you to be my equal?”

“No.”

“Have I ever needed that from you?”

“No,” she snapped, voice deepening a little.

“Because I expect you to know and to behave like my partner, to respect me and our relationship enough to step up when I need you to and to stand back and support me when necessary. You expect exactly the same from me, and I would never disrespect you or your choices by implying that I wasn’t fully included or supportive of those decisions.”

She was looking at him like she was about three seconds from saying _Duh_ , because that was how they operated. Ever since he’d returned from America, ever since the debacle of her running out on him after making that devastating confession, they talked through _everything they did_. It annoyed Al to no end, the way they would go on and on and on about something as simple as who was supposed to pick the restaurant or how they were navigating family events. The truth was that Rose was a naturally argumentative person, and Scorpius never wanted her to believe she’d only gotten her way because she bullied him, so he fielded every argument as if they deserved equal consideration. He wanted her to know she was important, that her thoughts and feelings were important. He argued with her because he cared. In fact, they’d argued once about why they argued so much. She thought something was wrong with them, she thought that other people didn’t have it so hard.

“ _Do you want me to stop arguing with you?_ ”

“ _I want us to be good! I want us to have a good relationship!_ ”

“ _And you think that because we argue, we don’t have a good relationship_?”

“ _Obviously! Couples aren’t supposed to fight this much. Couples are supposed to be warm and affectionate and always be on each other’s team!_ ”

“ _I have always been on your team_.”

“ _But you act like you’re not! My whole family thinks that we’re five seconds from hexing each other into oblivion half the time and the other half think you take everything I say too seriously.”_

_“Do you honestly care what they think? Or is it because that’s what you think too?”_

_“No—maybe, I don’t know!”_

_“I take what you say seriously because I take you seriously.”_

_“But not every single word that comes out of my mouth is worth an argument!”_

_“_ You _are worth the argument to_ me.” _She was eerily quiet. “Besides, we don’t argue, we discuss things.”_

_“…Doesn’t it exhaust you, though? I mean…I’m always—Don’t you get sick of me?”_

  _He picked up her hands, kissing them in turn, “Absolutely,” he smiled at her. “You are high strung and difficult and there are days I could strangle you. But, Rose Weasley, I’d rather fight with you for every second of my life than spend even an hour passively agreeing with anyone else.”_

Her family still didn’t understand their dynamic. But Scorpius knew that most of Rose’s family went out of their way to avoid arguing with her. That they often disregarded her harshness and her protests. Not out of any malice, but because in families of their size, harmony was a higher priority than pandering to one dissenting voice. As one of the youngest cousins, Rose often felt trivialized and ignored, though she’d rip out her own tongue before admitting it. People had the tendency not to challenge Scorpius because of who his father was, because of who his friends were, because he often spoke with a very calm and authoritative tone which sounded much more confident than he felt. Rose never pandered to him. Rose never let him get away with anything. Rose never cowered because of his name or money or genetically-inherited frigidity. She forced him to pay attention, to stop thinking and feel his way through things. She forced out of him what he really wanted beyond his profession and reputation.

“As for the passion and spontaneity bit,” he said with a slow-spreading smile, “I would refer you to this morning. And last night. And the day before that. And last week when you came to the office and…” She jumped up, cutting him off with her hands to his mouth and a manic grin on her lips.

“I take your point,” she said on a giggle. He pried her hands off of him and ducked to kiss her thoroughly, gripping her wrists near her head.

“I don’t make grand, overemotional gestures because I don’t have any intention of behaving like a jackass until you’re crying and feeling like shite and walking out the door. Grand gestures are for tossers who are trying to spend the rest of their lives as selfish overgrown children too asinine to take any responsibility for the emotional health of their relationship.”

Rose, her wrists still firmly in his hands, pulled her lips in as she listened to this, watching him like a cat with her prey.

“ _Liam_ hasn’t thought anything through. _Liam_ is trying to band aid a relationship that was already falling apart. _Liam_ thinks that a pretty ring and a fussy wedding and signatures on a piece of paper will make things even and clean and clear between them.”

“That’s a lot of emphasis on what Liam’s doing, Mr. Malfoy,” she said breathlessly, trying hard not to stare at his lips. She could tell he noticed. Scorpius released her wrists, hands sliding along her forearms until one rested at her waist and the other went to his pocket. He kissed her long and slow and deep as he reached in his pocket for the object that had been shrunk to fit there comfortably. Nonverbally, he re-sized it. When he pulled back, he kissed her cheek and along her jaw to lap and suck gently at her pulse point.

“ _Scorpius_ …”

He brought the small ivory box between them, raising it to eye level and twisting so that he held it between their noses. He watched her eyes go wide as he’d ever seen them, crossing a little as she took in what she was seeing.

“ _Merlin’s beard_ ,” she whispered, her hands reaching up to deftly take what she was being offered. In her defense, the box itself was a thing of beauty with its detailed carvings of snakes, vines, and tiny roses. It was incredibly old, centuries old, and an obvious indication that even then his family had no qualms about exploiting others for their material comforts. The box was made of pure ivory, charmed to prevent yellowing, and had come straight from North Africa. Ghana, if his research was correct. One of his first decisions as the heir to the Malfoy estate was to return many of those treasures found in his family vault to their countries of origin. This box had been the one exception simply because of its contents. Unfortunately, the object and its holder were intricately bound together through very old magic. She hadn’t opened it yet.

“I asked my mother for that two years ago.”

Her eyes flashed up to him vacantly, “You got back two years ago.”

“We got together two years ago,” he corrected.

“We’d just got together and you asked your mother for a ring?”

“We’d been dating for _two months_.”

She arched a brow, “And you’re telling me that _Liam_ hasn’t thought anything through?”

He tossed his head back to laugh, “You’re assuming that’s a ring, and I didn’t _propose_ two years ago, now did I?”

“I’m _assuming_ that this box, worth more galleons than Uncle Harry has stashed in his vault, holds something extremely precious and heirloom-like.” She paused. “So you got this two years ago and have been..?”

“ _Thinking_.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t want to cheapen what we have by doing this right when Liam was making a mess of things, but since the _Prophet_ has spoken.” He gently took the box from her, carefully opened the charmed lid, which would only ever open for the true Malfoy heir to reveal an engagement ring. Wispy strands of goblin silver were wound together like vines around the main white gold band, sprouting into leaves which framed a thick, deep royal blue, trillion cut, sapphire. Rose gasped. Scorpius couldn’t help but smile.

“As you might imagine, there are several excellent rings in the Malfoy vault, but I didn’t think your father would appreciate seeing green and snakes on your finger.”

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, taking the box back from him.

He frowned, “It’s a ring. One of hundreds I technically own or will own one day. You could probably wear a different one every day for a year and still have options. I don’t give a damn. The only thing that matters to me is if you choose to wear it.”

She looked at him over the lid of the box. Her eyes were wide and brimming and unfathomable. Scorpius still didn’t understand why they threw him so far off balance. Couldn’t remember thinking straight for even a moment since they’d been together. Rose had woven into his life seamlessly, entered his every thought gracefully, and had taken up residence as his primary motivation and chief concern. His work was a close second, but it was still second. He knew it wasn’t precisely the same for her; that her work was tied up in protecting the people she loved, in keeping them safe. But this was the logical next step, not because they were falling apart or reaching a crossroads, not because they were too young or too old, or too anything really. If she accepted, he would wait a year or five or ten, so long as he knew that’s where they were heading. So long as she knew that his future was with her. That their future was tied up in each other as much as it was in their careers.

“That’s quite a proposal.”

“It’s quite a decision.”

There was a heavy pause between them.

“But it really isn’t, though, is it?” He tilted his head slightly. “You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about it.” His smile was so smug that she blushed, sighing through her nose to steady herself. Even as his hands took the box from her again, set it on the table, and removed the ring, his lips kissed hers, lightly and tugging, nipping playfully. He brought her hand up between them and paused in his affections to slide the ring onto the appropriate finger. Charmed, it resized itself, and once settled flashed brightly before dimming to a subtle glimmer.

“I want this,” he whispered, “I want us. I want to fight with you and come home to you and be the person you trust.” She reached up to wind her arms around his neck and turned her face into his skin. She pressed kisses where she could, dug her fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I do too,” she whispered back, “I hate it a little, but I do. I want to analyze every fucking detail with you and think through every decision with you. I want your thoughtfulness and your arguments and your stupidly annoying tendency to be right.” He shook with laughter and she maneuvered to kiss him, pushing in deeper than before, giving her weight over to him. “I love you, you superior git.”

“And I love you, you annoying brat.”

*

Al is best man at their wedding, and Delilah, the matron of honor.

“Well the first thing you lot need to know is that the bride and groom fought viciously about which side I was to stand on.” Both were adamantly shaking their heads. “I think it’s because I’m _extremely_ famous…” His whole family groaned. “But since they couldn’t decide, I offered them my lovely wife, Delilah, as matron of honor.”

“Generous of you, dear.”

“ _I_ think so.” He laughed, dodging her swat. “Violent woman. Anyway. I’ve known that one since nappies, and that one since we met in the Hogwarts’ Entrance Hall,” he said pointing to them in turn, “And my vast experiences with them allow me to conclude that they are _horrible people_. Just the absolute worst. And dead boring. And they definitely hate each other with every fiber of their beings. I mean, even Aunt Luna couldn’t find two people more ill-suited for each other.” The hall had erupted in laughter.

“All joking aside,” he continued much more gently, “When they first got together, I wasn’t sure who to be jealous of first. On the one hand this chit snatched up my best mate. On the other, this smarmy git stole my favorite cousin. And then they were always running off to dark corners _without me_!” He sounded so affronted that everyone laughed. “So’s I went to my dad, cause you know, he knows everything about everything, and I’m like: Dad, your best mates have been ditching you to go shag for ages, what do I do?” Aunt Hermione was about to start shouting when Uncle Ron, laughingly, pulled her back into her seat.

“Lo Aunt Mione,” he cheeked from the table. People laughed. “So he says, don’t worry, they’ll be fighting all the time and running to you in no time. Give it a month.” He shrugged. “I was like, that sounds terrible Dad, I don’t want to see them only when they’re fighting. And then the berk laughed at me. No, no, he says, trust me. And it took me a year to figure out why he was laughing so much. Because here’s the thing, _they argue all the time_. It was bad before, but it’s only gotten worse as they’ve gotten better at it. Here’s the worst part: I’m so used to it now, that if I’m only with one of them, it’s _so weird_. I’m only seeing the one of them because they’re fighting. So they’re miserable and whinging. They’ve _trained_ _me_ to be happier around the both of them together than individually. It’s _absurd_.” Everyone was giggling at his indignant tone, the outlandishness of his critique.

“So we were maybe two months into this shite,” the boys hooted, “And young Scorpius was sobbing all over me about how Rosie was going to leave him and she was being such a berk about everything. And then he tells me, this sane, upstanding wizard I’ve known all my life, that he got himself into this little tiff with my cousin because _she wanted to meet his mum_.” The look of utter disdain on Al’s face translated to laughter from their friends and family. Rose was giggling, hand over her mouth while Scorpius just shook his head. “Now, folks, let me tell you about how these two lovebirds got together—”

“NO!” they shouted in unison, nearly jumping to their feet to stop him. There was really only one reason why he would bring that up in conjunction with Rose meeting the Malfoys, and it was because Scorpius had spent the whole day after they got together with her whole family and then some. Al had teased him ruthlessly for being chickenshit about putting Rose and his mum in the same room together. Because his father would absolutely love Rose and everybody knew it. Realizing, with a wicked grin on his face, that he only had a few more seconds to thoroughly embarrass his best friends on their memorable day, he shouted quickly: “ScorpiusgotbackfromhisjobinAmericaaweekbeforeheevenowledhisparentsandshackedupwithRose!”

Al tossed the charmed microphone in his hand and made a run for it, just as Scorpius started to lunge for him. Rose was left at the table as her new husband chased after the best man, looking rather chagrined. The Malfoys, seated not too far away were looking at her with rather bemused expressions. Mr. Malfoy had his chin in his hand.

“My cousin is a foul liar, Ria, don’t believe a word he says.”

“Of course, dear.”

“That never happened.” She paused. “Al hit his head pretty hard at Scorpius’ stag, he’s obviously gone spare.”

“Obviously.”  Both women’s shoulders were shaking with laughter as Scorpius’ shouting and Al’s mad cackles drifted in from the corridor.

“Isn’t there cake, or...?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm still learning about life, My woman brought children for me   
> So I can sing them all my songs, And I can tell them stories

A pregnant Rose Malfoy was decidedly not an easy or tranquil one. She put herself on desk duty willingly, and cut back her hours when they discovered she was carrying twins, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it. Scorpius was constantly on his toes, anticipating her moods and trying to make her comfortable. It was a losing battle, even he could see that, but she was appreciative. She’d seen how Al and Donnie walked on egg shells and hid at the first opportunity. Granted, Ava had already gone through the process twice before Donnie Jr. was born. Scorpius was just more involved. He was overly attentive and overly prepared, and like the swot he was, did all of the extraneous research he could to prepare. Even her mum and aunts said Scorpius was a dream compared to their husbands. Rose knew this was just his way of coping with his anxiety. He was excited, he was happy, but he was just as scared as the rest of them. And still he was her calm, her center, everything she needed in a partner.

Which was why, when her water broke at Sirius Seamus Potter’s first birthday party, Rose wasn’t at all surprised that Scorpius hardly flinched. The rest of house, however, went into an uproar. Ironically so, since there were a dozen pregnancies and births among them all. Hugo was shouting at everyone to move, her mother was having heart palpitations not helped at all by the fact that her father was also shouting at people. Uncle Harry was running around uselessly, and kept asking Al what the plan was. Her other cousins were also running around, grabbing things and trying to make themselves useful even though they definitely weren’t. Rose had wobbled, whale of a belly and all, to sit at the table, lounging around to wait for the madness to subside. Scorpius sat on the other side of the table, finishing his dinner.

“Contractions?”

“Last six hours? Ten minutes now.”

“Ah.”

They were quiet while Rose’s mum screeched at her husband to _stop eating_. Scorpius blanched, but easily poured Rose a glass of water and pushed cake at her. She murmured her thanks, taking bites as she watched her whole family panic. There were some sharp twinges of discomfort, but nothing terribly painful or long. She just made a face and put a hand to her belly.

“You tell me,” Scorpius said evenly as he finished his food.

“Mmm, cake first. Mungo’s food is shite.” Scorpius snorted but didn’t comment. They sat there long enough, eating quietly, that they eventually attracted the attention of their family. Two dozen sets of eyes stared at them in disbelief, and Rose was fairly certain that more than half wanted to shout at her. The restraint was incredible. Perks of being pregnant, she supposed. But then Al broke through the group with her overnight bag in his hand and hair sticking up everywhere, an echo of how he’d looked during Sirius’ delivery.

“Rose what the bloody hell are you doing the babies’re coming are you mental what is wrong with you?”  his shouting broke the spell, and everyone started talking over one another, insisting that she get moving.

“Oh,” Rose said, feigning ignorant surprise. She looked at her husband with no small amount of amusement. “Did you know that we’re having babies?” Scorpius shrugged broadly, exaggerating the gesture. “Well I suppose we ought to get going then,” she said sardonically as he came around the table to help her up. They shared a small grin as Scorpius took her arm, and thus some of her weight, and deftly took her bag from Al. They were herded over to the floo, and her father was the one to announce the desired location, making Rose scowl theatrically in her husband’s direction. He followed quickly behind her. They couldn’t escape the mob though, the Weasley-Potters were quickly on their tail. As Scorpius settled Rose into a wheelchair, he asked Al to floo his parents. Al shot off without so much as an “Ay, ay captain.”

An hour later, Rose’s contractions were a minute apart and the St. Mungo’s maternity ward waiting room was filled to capacity. The nurses were having a hell of a time sorting them out and trying to get them to stay quiet. Scorpius only knew this because Delilah was acting as a go-between, giving her family updates. Rose could have had a few people in the room until the delivery, but she really wanted a few more minutes of peace and quiet. And while Delilah was a nervous wreck, Scorpius was such a calming presence that it all balanced out. When Delilah ran out again because Al said it was time for Sirius to eat, Rose rolled onto her side and put a hand over her belly, making eye contact with Scorpius.

“We haven’t talked about names,” she said quietly, gritting her teeth when a new contraction started. He pulled his chair closer and offered her his hand to squeeze. Which she did.

“Touchy subject. Everyone else seems to have opinions.”

“Yeah,” she panted hoarsely. “Everyone but us.”

“We’ve got a lot of family names to pick from…?” he offered, knowing what her reaction would be. She rolled her eyes.

“And listen to the rest of them bitch and moan? _Hardly_. Ach!” she tightened her grip on his hand, making him wince.

“All right, your turn for suggestions.”

“You’re a Black,” she pointed out.

“Only in the strictest sense. So what?”

She groaned through a rough part of the contraction, “ _Scorpius_? Stars? Constellations?”

“Oh.”

“ _Oh_? That’s it?”

“Well…it’s a bit unusual isn’t it? I wouldn’t really wish my name on anyone else.”

“There’s got to be some sensible ones.”

“Most of them are taken by lunatics and criminals.”

“Point. So start listing some of the less sensible ones.”

“Well, there’s Camelopardalis.”

Rose laughed through a pained groan. “That’s the worst.”

“Cetus?”

She kicked at him, “I am not naming my baby _sea monster_.”

“Cygnus, Corvus, Perseus, Hydra?” She snorted so loudly that it caused a shot of pain. “Thought you’d like that one.”

“Isn’t there a ship or something?” she asked weakly, squeezing her eyes shut as the contraction dissipated.

“Argo Navis, but it was broken up into three. Puppis,” Rose snorted, making him smile, “Carina and Vela.”

“Vela’s pretty.”

“For a girl,” he pointed out. Rose rolled her eyes. They’d decided not to find out the sex of the babies, mostly because Scorpius was convinced they were both boys. Not because he wanted boys specifically, but because Malfoys just didn’t have girls.

“Yes, but boy names are _easy_ ,” she said rolling her heard on the pillow. “Rigel, obviously.”

“Obviously?” he asked with a quirk of his lip.

“We can’t name him _Orion_. Pureblooded lunatic war criminal.”

“Point.”

“And I think Leo’s too on the nose, but…Regulus, maybe?”

“Rig and Reg, hm? I can be okay with that. No Sirius?”

She scowled, “Potter name.”

“Of course.”

“We need another girl name.” He tried to argue and she squeezed his hand. “Humor me?”

He sighed through his nose, “Vela is a part of the Heavenly Waters family. Don’t think you’ll like those though. Delphinus, Eridanus, Austrinus, Columba, Pyxis…”

“Oh.”

“ _Pyxis?”_

“Pyx- _ia_.”

“Oh,” he echoed. “I kind of like that. So, Regulus, Rigel, Vela, and Pyxia.”

“Sound like a bunch of weirdos.”

“ _Our_ weirdos, thanks.” She laughed, wincing as another contraction started.

“Dad’s gonna hate it.”

Scorpius hummed, knowing what Ron Weasley thought of his grandchildren being part Malfoy. “We have a really good pair of middle names, then.”

“Ronald and Hermione?” she asked confoundedly through her pain.

“Or Rona and Hermes,” Scorpius answered with a shrug, tilting his head to get a better look at her, “Besides, it’ll piss off my dad, so everyone loses.

“Regulus Ronald and Rigel Hermes Malfoy,” she laughed breathlessly, “That’ll do it.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally decided to agree that they’re boys.”

She snorted again, “Don’t get cute. Vela Rona and Pyxia Hermione are on deck too.”

“Ro, Malfoys haven’t had daughters in…”

“Over a thousand years. Yes, I know, all your perfect male heirs.”

“It certainly simplified the inheritance process,” he said matter-of-factly. She let out a long, amused breath, trying to steady herself as the pangs subsided again.

“Weasleys aren’t known for girls either. Same with the Prewetts and Grangers. I think Granny and Grandad just had so many kids that they upped the odds.”

“Maybe we’ll beat them this time,” he said encouragingly, deciding that it was probably time they find a healer.

“Maybe,” she echoed before crying out.

And oh, did they beat them. Two hours later, Vela Rona and Pyxia Hermione Malfoy were born to the ecstatic Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. They had visitors in groups, six or seven Weasley-Potters came in at a time. Much to Rose and Scorpius’ surprise, their own parents hung back, letting the others in first. Her cousins thought she was mad for going along with the Black/Malfoy naming tradition, but they couldn’t argue that the names weren’t pretty. And the girls were beautiful, tufts of peach hair already showing and watery gray eyes. They were perfect.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger-Weasley and Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were the last ones to come in. Mrs. Weasley saw off her black haired brother-in-law with a kiss to the cheek and a confused look. But Mr. Potter only clapped his friends on the shoulders and told them to get some rest while they could. Then he winked at Rose and left.

“What’s he on about?” Hermione asked her daughter with an arched brow. Rose smiled over at Scorpius who nodded and lifted the baby in the green blanket from the bassinet. He smiled down at the pinched face she made and kissed her forehead softly. Then he turned and gently passed her to her grandmother.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley, meet Pyxia Hermione Malfoy.” His mother-in-law’s face crumpled into something between joy and awe, too overwhelmed to do anything but stare down at the newborn. With a soft chuckle, he went to lift the one wrapped in the purple blanket from Rose’s arms, repeating the smile and kiss to her forehead. He made the judicious decision to give Pyxia’s twin over to his mother first.

“Mum, meet Vela Rona Malfoy,” he said flicking a glance over her shoulder at his father-in-law who inhaled sharply through his nose. He looked stiff and confused, obviously having believed that they would use both mum’s names. Any complaints about their name choices quickly vanished. Scorpius slipped onto the bed with Rose, arm around her shoulders, her head cushioned on his chest as they watched their parents with their daughters. Both grandmums stood together, looking at the infants in each other’s arms, cooing and crying a little. Eventually, they turned to their respective husbands and handed the newborns over. Neither man bothered hiding the tears.

“…I have two granddaughters…” Draco said, dazedly looking down at Vela in his arms, “We haven’t had daughters in…. _ever_.”

“My granddaughters are Malfoys…” He clapped his in-law on the shoulder, holding Pyxia in one arm easily, “I think we both fouled up, mate.”

“Malfoys with red hair…” he sighed, “My father will never forgive any of us.”

Ron snorted, thinking it was probably the most unforgiving speech he’d ever heard from the man about his own father. Hermione went to lean her head on his shoulder, playing with their granddaughter’s tiny hand. Astoria stood in front of her husband, the baby ensconced between them. Both grandmums kept reaching over to look at the other baby, gently feeling the outlines of their feet. Scorpius could feel Rose shaking with laughter, sniffing wetly against his chest. He ran his free hand through her hair thinking that he’d be happy if all of their children had red hair.

“Never forgive us? He’s like to be cursing us into some filthy dungeon for allowing the bloodlines to mix.”  They looked down at their granddaughters. “Gorgeous babies, though.”

“Should’ve mixed blood ages ago,” Draco agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! bringonthedeluge


End file.
